Red Empire
by Nakran11
Summary: Eight years after the fall of Alduin and the sudden disappearance of the Dragonborn after the death of Miraak, the Empire holds its breath. The Aldmeri Dominion prepare to instigate a second great war with the Empire, this time to land the killing blow. As the Empire readies itself for the coming storm, the Houses of Morrowind secede from the Empire...
1. Chapter 1

The robed man walked across the seemingly endless road of rock and ash; passing the occasional refugee. He was at the border, he could feel it. Soon his feet would leave a world blackened by fire and ash and meet the crunch of snow. The air was beginning to chill his darkened skin beneath his black and red robes. He had walked south-west from Blacklight for several hours and frost began to coat his ebony mask as he neared the Sea of Ghosts.

Stopping just short of where ash turned to snow, he knelt down in the middle of the cobbled road.

The man extended a black armoured hand and scooped up a handful of snow, rubbing it between his fingers. Satisfied, he emptied his hand and stood, reaching into a satchel that lay on his right side, pulling out a piece of folded parchment. Unravelling the parchment with a quick flick of his wrist, the man looked upon a map of the land of the Nords, glancing back and forth from the map to the sea of snow before him.

"_How can you find anything in this snow-bowl of a country?"_

He scrunched up the map and cast it aside with an element of arrogance and walked on. Soon enough, his deep red eyes caught view of a city composed of great black slabs of stone that appeared to be almost encased in ice and surrounded by a frozen river that fed into the sea. The air was truly freezing now and he laboured to keep his mask free of the frost. Within a few minutes, his world had changed from blackened rock and dust to snow, frosted peaks and pine trees. Looking from the city in the distance, he cast his eyes back to the road. Several men on horseback were approaching his direction.

Armed men.

He stopped and held his hands behind his back, like a soldier standing to attention, and merely observed the approaching figures. At first glance they were clearly not to organised; their armour was mismatched and no element of uniformity in the slightest.

"Elf!"

He ducked as an arrow flew past his face. Several more men had appeared from the pine trees to his left, brandishing an assortment of cheap and rugged blades and bows. The elf stood with hands behind his back once more as he merely watched the approaching riders and kept the other bandits in his peripheral view.

The elf slowly clenched his right fist as he closed his eyes, focusing on the heavy thud of the horses. Closer with each second, louder. He could hear the horses' breath now, the clatter of steel. His heart raced as he awaited their attack. In one, practised move, he opened his eyes, ducked forward and threw forward his right fist. Fire enveloped the first rider and his mount, resulting in a sickening scream from both man and beast as their flesh was seared from bone. The elf rolled left, spraying another gout of flame towards the group in the trees. With quick ease, he drew two concealed daggers from a bandolier that lay across his chest, pushing himself into a sideways flip as he launched the daggers at the next two horsemen, both hitting their mark with a satisfying thud.

The last rider approached with speed, hell bent on killing the masked man before him. Straightening his posture, the elf drew a black, slightly curved longsword accented in golden runes from a scabbard at his waist, the blade pulsated with gold as the air hit the ebony. As the rider raised his arm to swing, so did the elf. The black blade slid through the horse's skull as he sidestepped to avoid being trampled and the horse buckled over as it ran, toppling its rider.

The elf sheathed his blade and turned to the last, breathing man. He was stuck in the saddle. Striding over to the rider with an edge of cockiness as he quickly stepped over several bloodied and burned bodies, he wiped his mask again of frost. The rider looked up at him wide-eyed in fear. He attempted to break himself free of the saddle but it was no use. He was trapped.

"Bastard elf, only someone like you would fight like that." He spat, grimacing in pain.

The elf looked down at him for several seconds, and then removed the mask which hid his face. He was middle-aged (for an elf anyway) with deep wrinkles around his mouth. A smooth, black beard matched neck-length braided hair, giving the elf an element of wisdom and experience. His skin was the dark ashen tone of the Dunmer, sporting a scar that ran just under the left eye to the nose.

"Someone like me? I am afraid _Nord_ that you have no idea who I am." He said with a deep, croaky voice.

The Nord spat at him, "You're a goddamn elf! I fought your kind in the great war!"

The Dunmer looked down at him, amused yet with pity, and then crouched down.

"Then you fought the races of Mer, save mine." He leaned forward and placed a hand on the Nord's head.

"As I said, you don't know me. But I will have you know this..."

He produced a black gem and held it in front of the bandit's face.

"Today, you trifled with the wrong man."

The Dunmer gripped the Nord's head as streams of purple light tugged from the man to the stone. As he screamed, the elf's grip tightened.

"I am Kelran Arathi, an Inquisitor of Resdayn and member of House Telvanni!" He roared as the Nord's life force dwindled. As he screamed, his blue eyes rolled up into his head and the veins across his body bulged. Gradually his cries drew to a whisper, and then to emptiness.

Kelran Arathi stood, removing his hand from the Nord's head and holding the stone up. The black gem was now emblazoned with purple glowing runes that slowly pulsated, like it was breathing.

He smirked.

"There are fates in this world far worse than death..."


	2. Chapter 2

"In the Oblivion Crisis, we stood with your Empire! House Telvanni was instrumental in closing the Oblivion gates across the eastern provinces. After the Red Year, we still stood with your Empire! We even supported you against the Aldmeri Dominion!"

A raucous array of protests and cries echoed through the council chamber of the White-Gold Tower in the Imperial City. Several representatives of the Great Houses of Morrowind and their delegates were openly challenging the members of the Elder Council; every seat in the circular hall was full besides one. The seat of the King of Morrowind.

Lord High Chancellor Recius Terin listened with growing unease as the Elder Council bickered amongst itself while the Dunmer representatives hurled their challenges like daggers to a board. He was an honourable Imperial, with deep brown hair edged with silver bound back in a ponytail. For the past three years the councillors had looked to his green eyes for advice and leadership. He had effectively ran the Empire himself due to the absence of an Emperor, Titus Mede II having been assassinated whilst visiting Skyrim but leaving no offspring to take the crown.

"Calm yourselves, or the royal guard will make you!" His grizzled voice reverberated around the hall, instantly getting the attention and silencing all who were present. He locked eyes with the lead Dunmer representative. The elf's robes suggested he personally represented House Redoran, the leading Dunmer House of Morrowind.

"The Empire has been stretched thin, Serus Lenith. You know fine well that we have had to deal with the Dominion and the Thalmor, not to mention the Dragon Crisis and the Civil War in Skyrim!"

Lenith's face contorted with furious anger and his croaked voice lowered to a sinister growl that could be heard by everyone.

"Do not patronise me, High Councillor. After the Red Year, Morrowind and Vvardenfell were crippled. And what did the Empire do? Nothing. Argonia invaded from our southern borders, even destroyed our capital, and I ask again, what did the Empire do? The Imperial Legion withdrew. You left our people to die before the armies of Black Marsh!"

The council replied in uproar yet again; some councillors shouting at the Dunmer in various attempts to save themselves from the challenge, others looked at their colleagues with anxiety and hope of reprieve from the verbal onslaught.

Lenith stepped forward and spat in the centre of the hall.

"This Empire makes me sick! We support you in everything and now we get nothing in return!" he straightened, a dark glare shrouded the elf's crimson eyes, "The Empire is a shadow of its former self. It seems Elsweyr and Valenwood saved themselves when they joined the Dominion. If only _we_ hadn't been so blind to your weakness…"

The High Councillor's eyes widened as the elves all threw down various amulets, talismans, rings and sigils that all bore the mark of the dragon-in-the-diamond and several similarly-clad Dunmer stepped forward. Telvanni wizards. In unison, they raised their arms as a vortex of orange light wrapped around the fallen objects, lifting them high in the air. One by one, the objects bound together into a ball and were then set ablaze, the mixture of silver and gold melting into a pool on the council floor. Their act of treachery at an end, Lenith turned his back on Recius Terin.

"Count this, High Councillor, as the official secession of the Great Houses. Morrowind will have nothing to do with your weakening Empire any longer!"

With that, the Dunmer delegation marched out of the council chamber as the councillors stared after them, mouths agape in bewilderment at what had just happened. Several minutes passed as each of them let their minds processed the last act of Imperial Morrowind. A lone councillor cleared his throat abruptly and slowly got to his feet, his eyes scanning back and forth as all attention turned to him.

"The- the D-Dominion is an even greater threat now the Dark Elves are no longer with us." Quickly, he seemed to find his courage to speak more clearly, "We have informants who say that the Thalmor is mustering its forces in Valenwood and Elsweyr. I have also heard that they're trying to gain the aid of the Argonians."

Another councillor spoke in return, "Control of the provinces is slipping, High Councillor. The Aldmeri Dominion has been planning a second Great War since the White-Gold Concordat. It's obvious that the loss of control and problems like the Skyrim Civil War were their doing."

The High Councillor sat with his hands clasped together just in front of his face as listened to the words of the Elder Council. The secession of the Dunmer would be a heavy blow to the Empire, more so than it had been with the Bosmer and Khajiit. An uneasy feeling crept into his stomach as a sudden realisation slipped into his mind. Recius looked up and cleared his throat.

"The Thalmor have always been steering us towards the knife in their plans. However, unlike the Khajiit and Bosmer, the Dunmer have left of their own accord. What if the Thalmor didn't anticipate their secession?"

"Or what if they join the Dominion?", retorted another councillor.

Quiet murmuring rose up across the chamber. The High Councillor raised a hand, summoning silence, "Either way, the loss of the Dunmer, as alarming and breaking it is, may provide us either with a minor advantage or a major disadvantage. We will have to maintain eyes on the Great Houses to see where their relations lie..."


	3. Chapter 3

The eyes of the Imperial Guard of Windhelm followed the robed Dunmer as he crossed the stone bridge that allowed entrance to the ancient city over the River Yorgrim. Taking long strides, the light plates of ebony that protected his chest, shoulders and forearms made light clinking noises as his armoured boots touched stone; the blade that hung at his waist tapping against his in their winter equipment, the guards watched with suspicious eyes. Dunmer only came to Windhelm for refuge. This man was clearly no refugee.

Kelran marched towards the main gate, a tall, hulking steel door locked inside an ancient and ornate archway. The age of the city was clear from the gateway alone, the symbolic engravings clearly the work of the Nords of old. It was common knowledge that Windhelm had been the capital of the Nord people during the First Era, however it was less known that it was built in the Merethic Era in Atmoran fashion by elven prisoners.

As Kelran approached the gate, the two Imperial guards that flanked the gate slowly stepped forward, both a hand on their blades.

"What is your business in Windhelm, elf?" demanded one of the guards. He was short for a Nord and his fair hair hung down to his neck in thin, wavy strands.

Kelran stopped and glared at the guard with crimson eyes, making him shuffle uncomfortably and glance at his comrade with uncertainty.

"None of your concern, _Nord_, I can assure you that much." He said callously, stepping forward to move past the guardsmen. The other guard quickly drew his sword and blocked the Dunmer's path, frost already coating the steel. Kelran looked amused under his ebony mask.

"Are you sure that's wise?" he smirked, narrowing his eyes.

The guard raised his blade up to Kelran, his brow furrowing with anger.

"Keep that tone up with me, elf, and you might find yourse-"

"Stand down! Let the Dunmer through!"

The three of them looked up to see a heavily armoured and black bearded man standing atop the gate. At that, the guard sheathed his sword and spat in the snow.

"Yes sir." growled the guard in frustration, eyeing Kelran with animosity.

"Be glad you didn't finish that sentence…" whispered Kelran smugly as he shouldered past him, the gate opening with a hulking creak as he approached.

A quiet bustling of words met Kelran's ears as he quickly entered the city. Candlehearth Hall lay before him, with stone paths either side of the building. Another two paths extended to his left and right, both flanked with high black, snow-capped walls. Grey clouds layered the Nordic sky, dusting Eastmarch with light snowfall. Kelran stood in the open courtyard before Candlehearth Hall, patiently waiting as several men and women passed him, looking him up and down with suspicious eyes. A door burst open from the tavern as several drunk men fell into the afternoon snow. He watched as they stumbled around, casting drunken slurs into the open air and laughing merrily.

Kelran turned back around to the main gate to find the bearded man from the gate marching towards him; a heavy greatsword sat across his hulking back.

"Didn't I tell you last time not to challenge my men?" he shouted, his large face red and flustered, "and take off that bloody mask too!"

The Dunmer sighed as he removed his mask, "Then make sure you don't recruit racist brutes, Almund, it might get them killed." He reached into the satchel on his right side, producing a weighted bag of coins. He tossed it to Almund as he came close to Kelran, the man catching them in his large, bear-like hands. Almund smiled and nodded, then brushed his black hair away from his forehead.

"Do you have anything for me?" whispered Kelran, his brow furrowed as a business-like seriousness shadowed his grey face. The large man nodded, then bowed his head to Kelran's height, speaking in hushed tones.

"Aye, its not much but you might find it useful, I can't really say."

Kelran raised a questioning eyebrow.

Almund swallowed, looking hesitant and fumbling over his words, "J-just a few old texts and things. I um, I don't really know if it'll be of any help but trust me I have-"

He stopped as Kelran laid a firm hand on the big man's shoulder.

"Where is it?"

"The New Gnisis Cornerclub, um, sir"

The robed Dunmer released his grip on the large man, nodded and then slid the mask back on.

"Thank you, Almund. Give the Thieve's Guild my thanks, and that of the Great Houses."

With that, Kelran strode past Almund, leaving him standing in the courtyard alone. He glanced back at Almund to see him looking through the bag of coins he had handed to him in payment for his services. Kelran chuckled to himself quietly.

"_Simply an illusion, my friend. Simply an illusion…"_

Kelran passed into the infamous Gray Quarter, the home to the Dunmer of Windhelm. As he walked the snow-covered streets, his boots crunching in the snowfall, he removed his mask again. It was safer here to show his face; it wouldn't be long before the racial tension towards the Dunmer skyrocketed however. He wondered how fast the news of the secession would spread across the Empire. His eyes surveyed the cramped alleys, catching glimpses of religious banners hanging outside of houses bearing the various symbols of the Reclamations. He made eye-contact with passing Dunmer who made way for his approach the moment they recognised the style of his robes, the mask hanging from his belt, and nodded in respect, to which he returned the silent greeting.

Kelran increased his pace as he saw the tavern. The New Gnisis Cornerclub was a fairly dingy building, with the upper floors being supported by three pillars that stood just outside the front door. Various Dunmeri banners and tapestries hung above the entrance, giving a small element of vibrancy and colour to this small corner of the dark city. He approached the wooden door to the tavern and pushed it open, quickly entering the building and shutting the door behind him. As he entered, all eyes turned on him. Kelran stood as he felt the patrons look him up and down, realising who he was. The club had been expanded since the last time he was here; the bar still sat central with an array of stools, but there were now several tables that littered the open area. Today the New Gnisis Cornerclub was moderately quiet, there were a surprisingly large number of people in the building but they made very little noise for their number. All of them were Dunmer, aside from a few human females who occupied one table by themselves. They can't have been Nords. The owner wouldn't have let them in otherwise.

Kelran cast several nods around the room as patrons returned to their drinks and then quietly moved to the bar. The owner, Ambarys Rendar stood staring at his approach as he cleaned a metal tankard.

"I believe you have something for me, Ambarys?" asked Kelran with a stern tone.

"Good to see you again, Serjo." Ambarys pointed to an empty table lit with two candles, "That one's saved for you. I'll bring over your drink in a few minutes. Canis root tea if I remember correctly?"

"Nei, juohn (Yes,thank you)" replied Kelran with a respectful nod and smile.

"Not many people still use the Dunmeri tongue anymore, it's good to see that some of us still keep it alive." said Ambarys with an expression of gratitude.

Kelran took a seat at the table that Ambarys had reserved for him, the wooden chair creaked as he sat. He stretched, then removed the ebony blade at his waist, it still in its scabbard, placing it on the table. As he lowered his hood, he looked around the room again. Kelran grunted as he caught the glances of a few of the patrons. In a way it pleased him, it felt good to be respected, even if they didn't know his name. He himself was unsure however if that respect was coupled with fear, or hope.

A tankard of Canis root tea and a small pile of parchment was placed on the table, kicking Kelran out of his daydream. Quietly giving his thanks to Ambarys, Kelran took a quick sip from the tankard before turning his attention to the various pages on the table. Laying them out across the table, Kelran quickly scanned them before giving any his full attention. His brow furrowed as he looked at one of the pages which quickly caught his eye.

_Daedra and Aedra - A full account of the relics of the deities._

_By Cecilius Dresius, Vigilant of Stendarr._

Kelran picked up the parchment and found the pages that accompanied the first, quickly scanning through with a finger passing along each word, muttering under his breath.

"Auriel's bow, Auriel's shield, the Staff of Magnus, Chrysamere, the Heart of Lorkhan…"

His mind filled with the memories of the Red Year, the eruption of Red Mountain at the heart of Vvardenfell. The skies of Morrowind burned red for the whole year, like the entire province had been transformed into a daedric plane of Oblivion. Morrowind then became victim to quakes and floods, which along with the eruption, devastated the landscape, paving way for the Argonians to invade. He cursed under his breath. The text was useless.

Kelran drank again from his tankard. He pushed the text to the side and looked over the others a second time, scanning them for specific words. Still no luck.

"What're you looking at?"

Kelran's head shot up at the sound of the female voice. A woman stood before him, leaning on a chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Nothing you need to know about." He growled, gathering the array of pages into a pile. The woman sat down without invitation. He looked at her, alarmed and irritated as she thrust her hand out in greeting.

"Elara Ashcroft, and you are?" She said with a bright smile. Kelran glared at her, unmoving. She was average height with fair skin, smooth light brown hair reached down to her shoulders. Her face was smooth as well, easily placing her age at around twenty years. Her garb however was unusual to say the least. She was clad in leather armour, several knives lay in small scabbards across chest diagonally. Kelran looked to the table where the human women had been sitting, spying a quiver and bow hanging on the back of the only empty chair. The other women were clad in the norm, typical dresses and such.

Kelran met her light blue eyes then slowly shook her hand.

"Someone you are best not knowing about." He said with a slight smirk.

Elara smiled and looked around before turning back to him.

"You say that but, I've seen how everyone looks at you. How everyone stared as you entered the room..." she leaned over the table, balancing on her bare arms.

"If anything, I would say you're probably the most important man in this room."

Narrowing his eyes, Kelran leaned back in his chair.

"Ashcroft, that is a Breton name if I am not mistaken."

Elara smiled again, "Well, well, someone has travelled quite a bit. Surely you've got stories to share, whoever you are."

"Too many." He stated, watching Elara's movements with suspicion.

Several moments passed whilst they stared at eachother.

"You don't exactly talk much do you?" She said, giving him a rather girly look.

Kelran continued to stare, hoping to make her uncomfortable.

Elara pushed her chair back slightly and then put her feet up on the table, "Ah well, no matter. I can get used to the silence I suppose."

Kelran felt his annoyance burn inside. Why did this woman have to intrude? Surely she could see that he was busy?

Kelran coughed and stood, gathering the pages and his sword.

"It was nice talking to you Miss Ashcroft but I must leave." He said, leaving the table and quickly striding to the door.

"Farewell, mysterious Dunmer!" She childishly called across the room as he gripped the door handle. Kelran sighed out of irritation, then left the tavern.

The sky had darkened now and the air was even colder. He was glad to be away from that insufferable Breton. The Dunmer here recognised him, as expected, but if anyone else did...

No, too many questions would be asked. Too much was at stake.

Kelran walked the dark streets, keeping a hand on his blade. His mind wandered as his feet printed the snow. What small lead he had was a dead one, he could only hope his comrades in the other provinces were faring better. His ears picked up a faint mumble of voices some distance away. Shouting.

Curious, he quickened his pace and walked towards the noise. As he drew closer, his heart beat faster. He turned a corner, facing into the courtyard by the main gate and Candlehearth Hall. There was a small crowd of people huddled around a town crier.

His mind stopped dead.

"Houses of Morrowind secede from the Empire! The Dark Elves are no longer part of the Empire!"

The crowd were shouting racial slurs and words such as 'traitors' and 'cowards'.

It was time to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

The elf hoisted himself atop the city wall with graceful athleticism, the howling wind threatened his fall. Kelran crouched low on the wall and looked down over the opposite side. He could easily make the drop. Reaching down, his armoured hands gripped the edge of the wall and he slowly swung himself round into a hanging position. Kelran looked down and took a deep breath then let go, a hand and boot scraping down the side of the wall as he fell, showering sparks into the snow.

Kelran landed in a crouch and surveyed his surroundings whilst wiping his mask of frost. He couldn't swim across the River Yorgrim, the cold would mean his death in a day or two. There was only one option: the main bridge. Skirting the side of the wall, he could hear the crowds inside the city in uproar, even the ring of steel. Kelran reached the side of the bridge, which extended above him. Reaching up, he slowly climbed up the black stone, wary of making as little noise as possible. The cold made the climbing more difficult as his fingers slowly locked up. Within a minute or so, he was hanging from the edge of bridge and a fifty-foot drop.

Kelran swung to the right and pulled himself up. Standing and dusting himself off, Kelran looked up at the sound of blades being drawn. Three Imperial guards were looking at him, wide-eyed and bewildered. One of them stepped forward.

"Stand down, elf. You're going to come with us." he stated with a clear Nord accent.

Kelran eyed him up and down. It was the guard who had stopped him when he arrived.

"You again? I guess you didn't learn the first time..." He said with amusement, a hand reaching for his sword. Kelran gave the blade a slight tug, making the sword loose in its scabbard and the guardsmen step forward with their swords and diamond-shaped shields at the ready. The Dunmer's eyes darted from one guard to the other. They were scared, he could see the fear in their eyes, but he couldn't kill them. There was already enough to worry about.

With inhuman speed, Kelran drew his blade; knocking the sword out of one man in the same movement before striking him in the face with the pommel. Turning around to the other two, he sidestepped a swing at his chest and parried another at his head. Kelran pushed the guard back with his sword and quickly swept his leg under the other. As the Nord he had pushed charged back at him with a roar, he swung low and chipped the man's shin, causing him to flip sideways onto his back. Kelran had bought himself some time. Sheathing his blade and sighing, the Dunmer looked down the bridge, and ran.

Kelran sprinted down the length of the bridge with a hand on his sword, his robes flowing wildly in the wind as more guards tried to block his path. Arrows flew past him, shattering against the black stone as he easily swerved around the individual guardsmen who ran out to meet him in combat. Kelran glanced back as the great hulking door to Windhelm opened and two horsemen rode onto the bridge in pursuit. The Dunmer cried out in pain as an arrow pierced his leg, causing him to now limp his way towards the wilderness. His heart hammered against his chest. He could feel the warm blood soak his clothes, hear the thud of hooves on stone as the riders gained on him.

A blade struck against his arm, knocking Kelran over and showering the darkness with fiery sparks. He rolled onto his back as the second rider reared above him. Quickly pushing himself up, Kelran planted a dagger into the horse and stumbled as he turned to run. He was off the bridge now and only had to cross into the snow-covered forest ahead. As Kelran limped into the tree line, his eyes caught a glimpse of another dead horse. Had he killed that one too? He shook his head and carried on. The pain in his leg was excruciating, he had to get rid of the arrow.

Looking back he sighed with relief as he saw that he was a fair distance away from Windhelm's main bridge. The white forest was quiet and seemed relatively safe for now. Kelran limped his way to one of the many trees and leaned his back against it. He threw off the mask and let his body slump in the snow. He looked down. The arrow had pierced diagonally through his thigh, the point had scratched against his other leg too. Kelran took a deep breath and slid the grip of one of his daggers into his mouth. Placing one hand on his leg, he snapped off the arrowhead and his face contorted in pain as a fierce groan escaped his mouth. Then, wrapping a tight grip around the nock of the arrow, he pulled. Kelran groaned in pain and his eyes watered as the arrow slowly slid out of his leg. After several seconds, it came free, spewing a stream of blood across the moonlit snow. Throwing the arrow to the side, he took another deep breath. He had to stop the bleeding.

_Maybe I'm mad for doing this, but its the only way..._

Readjusting the dagger in his mouth he placed a hand over the wound and closed his eyes. Kelran's whole body lurched as searing heat filled the wound and the dagger fell out of his mouth, letting loose a horrific cry of pain. As the cry died down, Kelran lost consciousness.

Kelran's eyes snapped open. The pain was gone. He looked around, confused. He was lying in a bedroll but he was still in the forest, albeit seemingly further in. Kelran sat up and froze. A woman was warming her hands on a fire.

"Hello again, mysterious Dunmer!" she said with a bright smile. Kelran stared at her. This was certainly not what he had expected to see. Elara was clad again in her leather armour, although this time she actually wore the wooden bow and quiver too.

Kelran stood up, shaky on his right leg and sat down next to the fire.

"Why are you here, Elara?" He said sternly, warming his hands against the flames.

She looked at him and tilted her head, "Well, to help you obviously."

"I don't need your help, girl-"

"Oh really? Is that why you got shot while trying to escape from the Imperial Guard?" she snapped sarcastically.

Kelran grunted, "I handled it."

The Dunmer looked at his leg. The robes were still sodden with blood but the wound itself was clean. Elara sat cross-legged and looked at where the arrow had pierced the elf's thigh. The skin around it was contorted and scarred.

"How did you um, stop the bleeding?" asked the Breton, her face showing her uncertainty.

"Cauterisation."

"What with?"

Kelran raised his right hand and Elara watched with wonder as flames curled around the black armour. The flames died and he dropped his hand.

"So, you never actually told me your name…" she said, seemingly occupying her attention with her recurve bow.

Kelran looked at her with a firm expression.

"So I didn't."

"Would you tell me?" she asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

He narrowed his eyes and sat in silent contemplation. This woman, as annoying as she was, had helped him. However, he barely knew who _she_ was. He could take no risks.

"Perhaps, tell me about yourself first and we shall see." he said, leaning back with an attentive look. Elara smiled and nodded, shuffling to get a bit more comfortable.

"Alright, mysterious Dunmer, we'll take turns then. I am Elara Ashcroft and I was born in Camlorn in High Rock. For quite a while, just about all I've done is travel; Hammerfell, Cyrodiil, Skyrim… I've been all over." She cast her eyes towards the fire and Kelran watched the reflection of the flame in her blue eyes, "I have no magical ability, unlike most Bretons, but I've gotten pretty nifty with a bow since I was around ten years old." Elara shrugged her shoulders, "that and I ain't really religious. Oh and I love lavender dumplings." She added with a girlish grin.

Kelran maintained a serious composure despite Elara's attempts at humour. Deeming her safe, he sat forward.

"I am Kelran Arathi of House Telvanni. I am an Inquisitor of Resdayn and I was born in Sadrith Mora on the eastern side of Vvardenfell."

Elara looked at him expectantly, "Is that it?"

"For now." He stated, looking over his left arm.

The sleeve had been slit where the first horseman had struck him, revealing a completely armoured arm plated in ebony.

"Surely you get hot wearing armour under those robes?" she mused.

Kelran smirked, "Not quite…"

He stood up and removed the bandolier around his chest, then slid off the robe. Kelran's body was unlike any other. He stood there in the snow with ebony plating strapped onto his black pants above his boots. Standing shirtless, it looked as if Kelran had sleeves built of ebony, accented with golden runes, but the underlayer pulsated with an odd red, almost volcanic light. Elara stared in strange fascination. Kelran's body possessed scars but his arms were not his own.

"One thing to note about the Inquisitors of Resdayn, Miss Ashcroft, is that many of us have artificial limbs." He said, stretching out his black-armoured arms. The veins at his shoulders were discoloured and unnatural where flesh stopped and metal began.

Elara sat motionless, fascinated but confused, "But, how is that possible? You can't build limbs that work with people like that."

"On the contrary," he said, putting back on his black and red, ebony plated robes, "you can."

Kelran sat back down, "Have you ever been to Solstheim or Morrowind?" he asked, to which she shook her head.

"In Dunmer territory, debris from the Red Mountain can be found relatively easily and some of the rock has...magical potential." he explained, making various gestures with his hands.

"The current Archmagister of House Telvanni, Neloth, had been experimenting with these rocks which he named 'Heart Stones'. He found that they work similarly to the Briar hearts used by the Forsworn in the Reach. Put simply, House Telvanni managed to use Neloth's research to perfect artificial limbs by using these Heart Stones and Azura knows how many enchantments."

Elara couldn't stop smiling in fascination but then her brow furrowed.

"What's an Inquisitor of Resdayn anyway?"

"None of your concern."

"Why are you in Skyrim?"

"Again, none of your concern."

Several minutes of awkward silence passed between them. Kelran sighed and stood up.

"Look, if you're wanting to accompany me all you need to know for now is that I'm looking for something here in Skyrim. The other Inquisitors are in the other provinces of Tamriel also looking for any sign of it. Does that satisfy your incessant questioning, girl?"

Elara looked taken aback and a pang of guilt hit Kelran as she looked down and nodded.

"Good." he said, sliding on his engraved, ebony mask.

"Then pack up, time is not on our side."


	5. Chapter 5

"Heard anything from your brother?" she asked with a look of concern.

"I'm sure he's doing fine, he can certainly hold his own." said Vaneth. He scratched his greying beard before sliding on a silver mask under his hood. The two robed Dunmer waited patiently in the circular stone corridor surrounding the Elder Council chambers. The man was of a medium build, clad in black, ebony-plated robes and carrying a large greatsword etched with golden runes that looked almost like they were dancing across the blade. The woman wore similar robes, albeit white and with a gold plated mask. She was shorter and slim, more of an athletic build like that of a gymnast.

"Did you read the last report from Havesh and his group? They finally located the Order of Psijics." he said, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

An Imperial Praetorian marched by them on patrol, casting a nervous glance in their direction, his heavy, white armour clanking with each step. Sirina's crimson eyes followed him as he passed. She felt most unwelcome.

She nodded, "Did they manage to get their hands on the Eye?" she whispered, looking back to Vaneth.

"I'm not sure, they have definitely found it but no doubt the Thalmor are posing problems. They always do." he said quietly.

"The Thalmor have been a pain in everyone's backside since day one, Vaneth, it should come as no surprise anymo-"

The door to the Elder Council chamber opened and a small head popped through, cutting off Sirina to her apparent displeasure.

"The Elder Council shall see you now." said the man in a clear but old voice.

Vaneth acknowledged and thanked the man before entering with Sirina into the vast hall. Like nearly everything in the Imperial City, the hall was circular with a large ring of seats on the perimeter of an inset circle directly in the centre of the room, giving it the air of an amphitheatre but without tiered seats. Vaneth scanned the room, eyeing the pairs of Praetorians at each door while only glancing over the faces of each councillor. Vaneth and Sirina braced themselves and entered into the centre of the circle, each of the eyes gazing upon them like pin-pricks. Vaneth exchanged a nod with the High Councillor, Recius Terin, while the man with the small head announced their arrival.

"Lords and ladies of the Elder Council, I present Vaneth Arathi and Sirina Redoran, here on behalf of the Inquisitors of Resdayn of Morrowind!" he bellowed, followed by a long and elegant bow. Vaneth saw Sirina shuffle uncomfortably as the Elder Council murmured amongst itself. He cleared his throat and addressed Recius.

"Lord High Councillor Terin, I come to you and your council in both friendship and goodwill-"

"Friendship? After the display on Mondas?!" protested a man to Vaneth's left. "Your people are no longer a part of this Empire, Dunmer, so run along and die in poverty or go and suck up to the Dominion like the Bosmer did!"

Sirina turned, "Those are some bold words for someone who is just a stepping stone for the Thalmor!" she spat.

The High Councillor laughed at her remark and shook his head. "Are we actually going to do anything as a council or are we just going to yell at each other all week?" several moments of silence passed between them as Recius looked about the hall, each councillor avoiding his gaze. "Good, we're finally getting somewhere. Vaneth, please continue." he said, sitting up straight smugly. Vaneth nodded and this time addressed the entire council.

"My Order is currently operating in all the provinces of Tamriel, some have even ventured to old Akavir. Our goal is to seek out the ancient Aedric artifacts of this world to make sure that they do not fall into...the 'wrong hands'. I understand our current situation with war on the horizon and the Secession of the Great Houses taking its toll already, but I must ask for your aid for any information on the current whereabouts of any and all Aedric artifacts known to the Empire."

Vaneth heard a woman clear her throat and turned around. She was old and appeared wise. She looked directly at Vaneth.

"How are we to know that the artifacts of the Aedra would be safe in your Order's keeping? Wasn't the eruption of Red Mountain and the whole ordeal with Dagoth Ur due to the Dunmer tinkering with Aedric artifacts?" she asked with a particular air of snobbery.

Vaneth clenched his jaw and sighed, "Rather than take a stab at our history, look at this logically. We are currently not a part of the Empire or the Dominion because we simply want to rebuild after so much has been taken from us. That also means all of our forces are dedicated to Morrowind and Morrowind alone, instead of acting as tertiary units within the Legion. Our interests are inwards-"

"Would you rather we had these artifacts or the Thalmor?" interrupted Sirina. "Because, councillors, that is what this ultimately comes down to. You have a war coming, and we might too if the Dominion gets the aid of Blackmarsh. These artifacts are immensely powerful and are not for this age, but the Thalmor are looking. If they acquire even just one, they could shorten the next Great War by five years at least."

High Councillor Recius Terin leaned forward and slammed a hand to the table. "The Empire will give you what we have from the Imperial Library and from what the Synod have researched. All in favour raise your hands." he declared, raising a hand while scanning the hall. His hand dropped and he leant back in his chair. Vaneth glanced around. It was a majority vote.

After the audience was concluded, Vaneth and Sirina left the White-Gold Tower, stepping out into the Cyrodiil sun. They walked down the steps to the tower and out into the market district, passing a huge number of people ranging from casual peasantry to nobles. The area was quite large, with a single main street running the length of the district parallel to the curved city walls, with smaller streets breaking off perpendicular to it. The Imperial City was the jewel of the Empire, and rightly so with its clean roads and its tall towers and buildings constructed from smooth stone that almost bore a black/grey gradient of colour. The Legion here were different to the rest of Tamriel, they were more heavily armoured with full plating and rectangular shields bearing the mark of the dragon. Despite everything grand about the city itself, it was the people that caught your eye. No longer were these citizens of the Empire simple commoners and nobles that strutted around to conclude whatever business they had. These people were more like frightened sheep almost ready for the slaughter. Vaneth could see their vulnerability in their eyes.

As they passed a general goods shop, Sirina turned and entered a small garden area behind it with Vaneth in tow. She turned to him and sighed.

"So then, which one of us is going back to Morrowind with an Imperial escort and a wagon load of research papers?"

"I'll take the boring job and the annoying Imperials," he said blankly, "but what will you do in the meantime?"

Sirina quickly consulted a scrunched up map of Tamriel and then she pointed out a route with her finger, "I'll head up to Bruma to scout through what's left of Cloud Ruler Temple to see if the Blades had any useful information and then I'll cross into the Dragontail Mountains. I might try and find Ves too."

"Well you've thought about this a lot already," said Vaneth with a nervous chuckle, "I'm surprised you're so anxious to leave so soon."

Sirina's eyes looked up at him with slight sympathy, "I'm only eager so that this entire thing is over with quickly, it has nothing to do with you, Vaneth."

Vaneth bit his lip as his heart hung a little heavier, then looked down awkwardly.

"Vaneth…" she sighed, her face falling solemn beneath her mask.

"No no," said Vaneth, adjusting his gear and clearing his throat, "you are...right. In not wanting to get side-tracked I mean, it um…" Vaneth straightened and turned on his heel.

"Et nibis, Sirina. Khosi gher Azura's tear. (So long, Sirina. Walk in Azura's shadow.)" he said in old Dunmeris, then walked back out into the bustling street. As Vaneth quickly marched down the street towards the Mage's District, he could feel his heart pounding. He was surprised he hadn't been fried by magic after his abrupt departure, though he also felt guilt. Whilst naturally not being good at goodbyes in the first place, he knew that this time it really had been a bad move.

"_She'll forget about that...hopefully."_ he thought to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

The two of them had walked through snow and forest for several hours since the dawn of the day. Kelran had forced his wounds to heal through his own power and Elara had done the honours of hunting game each evening. Since the Inquisitor's incident at Windhelm, Kelran and Elara had been slowly travelling northwest through the southern reaches of the Pale and towards the Sea of Ghosts. Several days had passed since then, and hardly a word had been spoken.

Kelran trudged over the snowy ridge with Elara shortly behind him, longbow in hand. The Dunmer looked toward the sight that had just been unveiled; a vast expanse of snow and glaciers buried within a heavy blizzard. His elven eyes could only just make out the silhouette of a looming statue of Azura far to his right. He knelt down in the snow, placing down an open palm on the surface.

"Um, what are you doing?" asked Elara, her face a mask of confusion.

"Quiet." snapped Kelran, summoning forth energies buried deep within his body. Purple strands of light slithered their way through the snow like snakes to Kelran's hand before dissipating.

"_The touch is light here. It's faint, but it's there."_

The elf stood up again and brushed his hands of snow while Elara looked at him expectantly. The strong winds from the sea blustered forth fiercely across the white desert, causing Kelran and his companion to shield their eyes from the storm. The Dunmer stumbled forward against the wind while keeping a firm hand on his hood. Elara hurried in front of Kelran as they were enveloped by the blizzard.

"Which way are we going?" she shouted into the wind, her voice seemingly quiet against the raucous gales. Kelran pointed directly ahead into the haze of snow before her. Elara rolled her eyes. Kelran was always so keen to provide specifics.

Kelran took the lead again and struggled forward, the blistering cold piercing straight through his clothes. Looking down, he couldn't help but smile. His cold, black hands were covered in a thin layer of frost. The Dunmer suddenly stopped dead, the blizzard still circling around them. There was a familiar presence, a certain sensation in his gut. Narrowing his eyes, he tugged loose his ebony blade. Elara wandered past him obliviously and he pulled her back, raising a hand just as a black arrow flew through the air, shattering against Kelran's blue protective barrier.

"Stupid girl! Keep your wits about you or you'll meet an early end!" he spat, standing up straight and drawing his blade. Elara watched fearfully as the Dunmer stood with his sword outstretched to the side. The storm did not even seem to bother him now, almost as if Kelran had drowned out his surroundings through sheer will and focus. As he stood motionless against the storm, Elara watched as several dark figures slowly shuffled through the snow out of the heart of the blizzard. Their movements were rigid and their shapes slim with tell tale silhouettes of armour plating and bladed weapons. Then she saw their empty eyes.

"Kelran, they are Draugr!" she cried out to him over the howl of the wind.

The elf ignored her, his senses were finely attuned and he could feel the familiar sensation of magic coursing through them. If not for the blizzard, he would have sensed their cold presence ten minutes ago. Kelran's eyes snapped from one ice cold shambler to the next as they came into proper view, shuffling forward with their ancient blades held high and clad in black, battered steel from a bygone era. The Dunmer turned side-on to his foes as another black arrow whizzed past.

"_Five in total; four with blades, one with a bow that I can't see...wait, no…"_

His ears heard a shrill screech over the sound of the wind, one that was unmistakable. A lich. One draugr closed the gap quickly and swung from above with a greatsword, easily missing the swift elf as he sidestepped the undead. Quickly and efficiently, Kelran severed the head of the draugr before dashing to another two and easily cutting them down, their bodies falling limp in the snow. The elf span around and swung at the fourth with a diagonal slash. The draugr quickly parried the strike with a longsword before hitting him with its Thu'um, blasting him back several feet and launching his sword flying behind him. The draugr hurried forward to land the killing blow when a knife suddenly slammed into its left side. Kelran turned in the snow to see Elara crying out as she charged forward with a pair of daggers towards the draugr, leaping with both blades outstretched and burying them deep into its shoulders. The Breton then drew her bow and turned while still kneeling on the draugr carcass and began firing shots wildly into the blizzard. Kelran rushed forward to join her as a bright blue lance of ice shot through the snow, ripping through her gut and spewing blood over the sheet of white. Anger gripped the Dunmer as he gazed upon the girl, struggling and screaming into the storm. He turned his crimson eyes to the faint silhouette of his target, flexing his hands as he marched forward.

"Today, repugnant and vile lich," he roared, "you have trifled with the wrong Dunmer! Molad et Dradihn s'wit!"

Kelran outstretched his arms and allowed his emotions to take hold. Flames quickly curled around his body before being jetted forward in a great wall of orange and red. Over the roaring flames, he could hear the lich cry out in agony, its screams guttural and unnatural. Gradually, Kelran could feel his legs weaken and he dropped to one knee, however he was determined and kept his metal arms raised breathing fire over everything before him. Finally, Kelran's magicka reserves ebbed and he felt a wave of fatigue come over him as his flames died. After several seconds' recovery, he looked up and laughed manically as the blizzard dissipated. Everything ahead of him that had been alive was now a charred crisp, all the snow and ice had melted and slid down further towards the coastline. Kelran had always enjoyed demonstrating such power.

A spluttering cough brought his mind back to Nirn and he turned his head to a deeply injured Elara. Quickly, Kelran stood and rushed over to her. The girl was lying on her side, the bolt of ice lodged directly in her abdomen. Her eyes looked at him pleadingly.

"Elara, do your best not to move. We need to get this out of you." cautioned Kelran. Elara nodded and pulled at the ice lance, screaming out in pain and causing more blood to gush forward. Kelran winced and averted his eyes, then caught himself.

"_What am I doing that for?"_ he thought.

Kelran shook his head, gripped the lance and gritted his teeth. Yanking backwards on the bolt, he slowly slid the ice lance out of her gut with Elara crying out in excruciating pain constantly. Eventually the entire length of ice came free from her body and she slumped back down in the snow, clutching her stomach.

"Elara."

The girl looked at him with uncertainty, dreading what he was going to say next.

"You know what needs to be done…" he said, kneeling next to her with a hand outstretched.

Her eyes went wide with fear as her dread became reality and she began shuffling backwards on her elbows.

"No! No, no, no please don't, I'm begging you!" she pleaded.

"Elara…" he sighed.

"Don't even try it! Please-"

Kelran punched her straight across the face, knocking her out and causing her head to drop back into the snow. Then, he turned his attention to her wound. It was messy, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. Carefully, the Dunmer lifted Elara into a seated position and then he put an ebony hand on both sides of the wound and pressed in. Very slowly, he poured heat through his hands and into her body at just the right temperature to seal her blood vessels but not too hot to do any further damage to her tissue. Satisfied, he laid her back down before repairing her body with his magic as purple energy seeped into her. His work completed, Kelran slumped backwards with exhaustion. Mending wounds, especially fatal ones, was certainly not his speciality. Struggling, the Dunmer got to his feet and glanced about, his eye catching a glimpse of his blade lying in the snow quite a way away. He shuffled through the snow and retrieved his sword before returning to where Elara still lay, sheathing it in its ornate scabbard at his hip.

Biting his lip, he looked down at the unconscious girl. Elara's skin had become pale, she had lost a lot of blood and wouldn't be fit for travel even if he woke her up. Kelran slid off his mask and dropped his hood, taking a look up into the sky and then quickly surveying his surroundings. The blizzard had completely cleared now, the cold blue sky of the Pale was a refreshing change. He sighed and wiped a cold hand over his face. It wouldn't be too long until the sun fell below the horizon.

"You're in no state to travel, girl." he said, looking down at her still face, "but then neither can I also take you with me. Time is too precious."

Kelran crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, then he drew his sword. Slowly, the Dunmer walked a circle around Elara, using his blade to trace a large glyph around her in the snow. The circle complete, he muttered a brief incantation and the glyph burned with fire.

"This is the best I can do for you. It will keep you warm and should ward off any attackers." he said.

"Farewell, Elara Ashcroft. We'll cross paths again, I am certain."

With that, Kelran turned and started off back towards the Sea of Ghosts, struggling to stop himself from looking back. Moving through the heart of the Pale,where snow fell to ice, Kelran stopped as the ground directly ahead gave way to a crevasse. Even with elven agility, his steps were hesitant. The crevasse extended deep into the abyss so far that his crimson eyes could not see the bottom. Quickly the cold weather picked up again, hitting the coast with powerful winds and dusting snow and ice into the air.

"_After all of this, I am not going to fall down some hole to my death. That would be an absurd way to end. What would old man Neloth think?"_

Kelran looked at the opposite side of the crevasse. The gap was quite large; it would take a Khajit to jump that distance. Bracing himself against the wind and shielding his eyes, Kelran reached behind him and drew a balanced knife from a set of small scabbards at his lower back. Gripping the knife in a black hand, he infused the cold steel with quiet incantations, bringing to life a small blue rune etched on the blade. Taking the knife by the blade between his thumb and index finger, he hurled the blade across the crevasse, watching as the blade slammed into the ice on the opposite side. Kelran cursed, the blade had not even gone over the chasm. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath and then slammed his open palm against the ice, blue light shrouding his body as it reappeared on the other side of the crevasse, his right hand gripped firmly around the grip of his knife.

The Dunmer looked down as he hung over the abyss and began laughing nervously. The sensation of hanging inches away from death was thrilling to the dark elf. Kelran looked back up and squinted his eyes against the light. He slowly reached behind him with his left hand and tugged another knife free, holding it in reverse. Kelran pulled up slightly with his right arm, checking if the knife was strong enough to take the extra force. Feeling a lot more comfortable when the blade held, he reached up further with his left and planted that into the ice. Over the course of ten minutes, Kelran slowly traversed the wall of the crevasse, finally reaching the top. As Kelran clambered back onto the surface, he fell forward in the snow. Hanging for so long had put immense strain on his arms. He sat up and grimaced as he checked where ebony met flesh. Just as he thought, the seals had begun to bleed. Standing up he rolled his shoulders and soldiered on into the harsh wind.

Finally, Kelran's dark boots left snow and touched dirt, sand and ice-cold water. Once again, he planted an open palm against the ground, summoning forth more purple strands of light through the surface.

"_Yes, there it is. It's very close now. A door hidden in plain sight…"_

The Dunmer stood up and looked around. Before him lay the Sea of Ghosts, the vast expanse of water and ice that stretched between the northern coast of Skyrim and ancient Atmora, the homeland of the first Nords. Behind him lay the desert of snow and ice, but along the coastline itself was littered with rock, debris and the occasional mudcrab. Kelran reached into one of the pockets adorning his bandolier and produced a black soul gem, still emblazoned with purple runes.

"_Bandits are just so arrogant…"_ he smiled, as he held the soul gem in both hands, almost like he was trying to smother it. The Dunmer spoke lightly under his breath, then he let go of the soul gem. The stone hovered as the purple runes burned with unnatural fire, enveloping the gem entirely. Kelran gazed at the stone with a certain admiration for himself. Never before had he seen a wizard manage to pull this off so easily. Eventually, the stone shattered, releasing a burst of purple fire which then seemed to take the form of a man.

"Why have I been called, Dra'gaharihn?" spoke the man, its voice deeply ethereal and unnatural.

"Find the door to the Soul, spirit." instructed Kelran with authority.

The spirit nodded and broke apart into three purple orbs that flew in different directions. After several moments, the orbs returned, circling each other as one entity. Kelran raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. The orbs then split, turned and collided, reforming the figure of a man.

"The entrance moves with us, Dra'gaharihn. As of now, we are the door." spoke the spirit.

"Then open it before I keep you locked in the Soul Cairn, or would you prefer Oblivion?" threatened Kelran.

The spirit groaned in annoyance and then split into the orbs once more. The orbs arranged themselves in an inverted triangle across the ground before the wizard, pale purple lines of light linked them together. Almost immediately, the ground quaked, shaking up dust and snow and startling Kelran. As he brushed himself off, the triangle glowed with power, giving off a loud hum.

"Thank you kindly." he mocked, briskly stepping into the triangle. The elf's vision of the coastline was replaced with that of a large cavern. A strong metallic taste rested on his tongue as he walked forward, seeing the triangle still behind him.

The cavern was immense, it was round with the walls reaching around forty feet high and curving inwards at the ceiling towards an open gap that allowed a single beam of light to stream down onto the object that he had been seeking. It was almost as if the cavern had been carved out by a gigantic hand, but with great precision. Each ridge in the walls was elegant and graceful, smoothly curved and etched with ancient runes that he did not recognise. Directly in the centre of the cavern stood a large set of stairs set into the side of a great stone, and atop the stone rested a pedestal.

Kelran approached hesitantly and started up the steps, each footfall echoing throughout the cave. Reaching the summit, he walked towards the pedestal and gazed upon it with relief. The Soul of Trinimac.

Kelran reached forward slowly, picking it up in an ebony hand. The Soul was locked in a perfectly spherical white stone. It was glassy in appearance, but like most Aedric artifacts, Kelran knew this would be nigh on impenetrable. Kelran found the stone surprisingly light, but he could feel the power locked inside. The very soul to the champion of a god.

"_Strange how a simple looking stone could bring about the end of the Empire-"_

His train of thought was cut off as something sharp pierced his chest. Kelran looked down and saw, in a mix of surprise and fear, an arrow protruding from his body. His body collapsed and he felt his power wane as a woman stepped over him.

"_No…"_

Elara bent down and picked up the stone, giving a quick smile to Kelran.

"Thank you for doing all the work for us, mysterious Dunmer."

Kelran's eyes followed her as he tried to speak. Elara quickly walked back down the steps and towards the triangular portal where three men cloaked in black robes, accented with gold, stood waiting. The lead man locked eyes with Kelran. An elf, sharp features, golden skin, blond hair and a power hungry visage. An Altmer.

"You have done very well, Dra'gaharihn, or should I say, 'death mage'." he called to him, holding the stone up high, inspecting it with keen eyes. "The Thalmor were _never_ going to be beaten at such an easy game as this!"

The Altmer laughed and left through the portal with the other two and Elara.

_Elara._

A Thalmor Agent.


	7. Chapter 7

The Dunmer stumbled towards the portal, a hand over his chest where the arrow had pierced his body. As his feet touched the inside of the triangle, he felt himself thrust forward, emerging back on the coast of Skyrim at the edge of the Sea of Ghosts. As he was propelled through, the portal expired with a shockwave. Kelran soon found himself on his knees, shards of ice, wood and bone jabbing into his skin. His breath was shaky, his limbs felt stiff. Soon enough, the elf's vision darkened, and his world darkened with it.

It was then that he saw it in his dreams. The Soul of Trinimac. The white orb that housed what remained of Auri-el's champion. Then he heard her. A young, but wise voice. Powerful, but gentle.

"_You will not die this day, Dra'gaharihn. It is not your time just yet."_ said the voice. It felt familiar, but he could not place the source.

"_Why should I live? I have been duped; betrayed and left for dead. What reason should there be for me to carry on while bearing such shame?"_ he said.

"_Every age has its heroes, and like the Nerevarine once was, you are my champion to the Dunmer people. I will not allow you to pass so soon."_

Kelran's vision changed from the stone to a familiar sight. He now looked upon the Imperial City at the heart of Cyrodiil, lying upon its island in the Niben, surrounded by lush, green forests with high, snowy peaks in the distance.

"_This has been the Empire since the Second Era. A resolute and stalwart guardian to Tamriel, protecting its people and providing prosperity to the land…"_

The image then snapped, almost like it was an alternate reality. The Imperial capital lay in ruins, fires raged across its buildings and the White-Gold Tower had been toppled. Cyrodiil had become an alien, barren landscape beset by war and death beneath a sky of flame.

"_...and this is the Empire to be. It has grown ever weaker in its age and is now powerless to face the coming storm. The children of old Aldmeris want nothing more than the subjugation of man-"_

"_And why should I care if the Altmer wipe men from the face of Nirn? We may hate the Altmer but the loss of man is no loss to mer."_

There was several moments silence as the image changed again. Kelran's eyes saw several cities ablaze with green fire, chains hanging around the necks of his brethren and plumes of smoke larger than Red Mountain. He felt a hatred emerge like none he had ever felt before.

"_Do not be ignorant, Dra'gaharihn! Men might be first, but Dunmer are not far behind in the minds of the enemy. They will come for my people."_

"_What would you have me do, Lady of Twilight?"_

"_The hubris of mortals is not restricted to just the Dunmer or the kin have learned much from the downfall of the False Tribunal, yet the Altmer have a stronger arrogance than most. The Soul of Trinimac must be reclaimed, else all of Nirn may fall under the shadow of the Dominion."_

"_I shall do as you wish, Lady Azura."_

"_Then live, Dra'gaharihn. See to it that my will be done and the mortal races saved. Go, with my blessing."_

Kelran was suddenly forced out of the dream like he was being pushed from his own mind. His eyes were staring up at a wooden ceiling that appeared slightly damp in the corners. Kelran slowly lifted his head and grimaced when he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down and furrowed his brow in confusement. The elf had been stripped down to just a pair of black pants that reached to his ankles and his wound had been cleaned and sealed, leaving a small scar. He propped himself up on his elbows and glanced about. The room was average size for what looked like a bedroom, with the bed next to the wall with the doorway at the foot of the bed. On the wall opposite to Kelran were several shelves that had been littered with books and odd empty jars. There were no windows but the lamp by his bed caught his eye; a small blue organic bell with small, pale lights fluttering around inside. Hope filled his heart as his mind began to race.

Kelran slid off the bed that had been wrapped in furs and his bare, grey feet touched the stone floor. He walked to the foot of the bed and peered through the doorway. He was looking into a small living room with two chairs set beside a fire. Kelran entered cautiously, doing well to make little noise. Scanning the room, he saw that this room also lacked windows and was instead lit by the fire in the hearth at the wall as well as by more organic lamps. There was a large table set in the centre of the room with a map of Tamriel lying across it along with several books that clearly belonged to the open bookcase at the back of the room.

"Its good to see you on your feet, Kelran."

Kelran spun round and froze, locking eyes with another Dunmer. The elf was tall and of a slim build, his robes similar to Kelran's but coloured in a deep blue. His face was smooth and sharp with pursed lips, giving the air of him almost like a trickster.

"Sorvayn?" exclaimed Kelran with great surprise to which the elf looked amused.

"Is it really such a surprise to see me, old friend?" he asked, smirking.

Kelran looked the elf up and down with bewilderment, then he appeared to reassert his senses.

"Where am I?" he asked.

Almost as if in answer, the ground shook slightly and then he heard a rumble around a second afterwards. Kelran's piercing eyes widened. He had to be sure.

"Which way?" he demanded.

"Up the stairs, serjo. Then the door right ahead." smiled Sorvayn, pointing towards the doorway behind Kelran. The Dunmer turned and ran up the stairs, taking three steps in each stride before bursting forth from the door at the end. Kelran found himself surrounded by ash and large curved stone buildings shaped like the carapace of a silt strider. He was on a newly built stone road that extended for several miles, lines of houses on either side with a large temple at the end. The closer a building was to the temple, the larger and more ornate it became. The sky was darkened as ashfall fettered the city that was still being rebuilt but was largely complete.

"Mournhold…" whispered Kelran, an overwhelming wave of relief pouring over him.

"A lot has changed since you were last here." said Sorvayn, standing beside him as Kelran gazed upon the Tribunal Temple, grand and powerful in its stature and dominion over the city.

"The last time I was here this city was nothing but a ruin full of bloodraged Argonians, Sorvayn. It is...warming, to see that so much has changed." said Kelran.

"We'll take back what was ours yet, I can promise you that." said Sorvayn, turning back towards his home and disappearing down the stairs. Kelran looked northward towards the looming plume of smoke that filled the sky in the distance. Red Mountain lay at the heart of Morrowind's central island of Vvardenfell, its shape and regular roar present wherever you were in the province. The sight of the volcano unnerved him. It had been the source of so much death and ruin. He wondered if it still had any tricks up its sleeve. Kelran spat in the dirt and ash and followed his friend back beneath the surface.

Kelran entered to see Sorvayn sitting quietly in one of the chairs facing the fire and decided to join him, seating himself beside him. He eyed Sorvayn, watching as the inquisitor stared into the burning hearth.

"How did you find me? I was told I was the only inquisitor in Skyrim." said Kelran, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Sorvayn glanced at him and sighed.

"There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just put it out there." he looked at Kelran with a manner of sympathy and regret, "the Grand Council sees you as potentially dangerous if left to your own devices, and so I was instructed to observe you from a distance."

Kelran's expression immediately turned cold, his jaw clenching. "You mean to tell me, that I was nearly killed by Thalmor agents and you could have easily prevented it?" he said, sinister and threatening.

"Kelran, I was under strict orders only to observe and not to interfere!" shouted Sorvayn, a fist slamming down on the arm of his chair. Kelran glared at the dark elf, chewing the inside of his lip in silent contemplation. He leaned back in the chair and slowly turned back to the fire, its orange glow glistening over his crimson eyes.

"I see." he said in a low growl, to which Sorvayn seemed to breath a little easier.

"Anyway… what did you find through that portal?" asked Sorvayn, wiping a hand over his face.

"I found the Soul, my friend." answered Kelran, not looking at him.

"You mean _the _soul? The Soul of Trinimac? Well where is it then?" he demanded.

"By the Three you can be dense at times, Sorvayn. Use some of that intelligence of yours!" mocked Kelran.

"You don't mean…"

"Yes, I do mean that." he said, standing up and beginning to pace the room, "The blasted Thalmor have the Soul! They're likely bringing it back to the Summerset Isle right now!"

"Hang on, Kelran. How did they actually get it in the first place?"

Kelran could see the alarm on his friend's face. At least he saw the dire urgency of this.

"How do the Thalmor get anything?" he said, shaking his head with his hands at his hips, "through deception and dishonour."

Kelran sat back down in the chair and spoke more quietly, trying to calm his anger.

"In Windhelm, after the Great Houses seceded from the Empire, the Nords there rioted against the Gray Quarter. I know not of how things are there at the moment but I managed to escape. Shortly after, I was aided and accompanied by a female Breton named Elara," he explained while Sorvayn listened intently, nodding where appropriate. "Elara traveled with me while I followed the ley lines through Skyrim, using my power as a Dra'gaharihn to detect the potent energies that ran through the very fabric of the land. Whilst following the line that stretches through the Pale, we were attacked by a lich and its minions. Naturally they died for the last time, but Elara was injured by an ice lance through the gut; I did my best to heal it and make her comfortable, but I had to leave her behind. As you probably saw, I opened the portal with a black soul gem and went inside. While in there, I grabbed the Soul but then I was ambushed and left for dead _by_ Elara and several Thalmor."

Sorvayn let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his black hair.

"Well, one thing is for certain. You need to see the High Inquisitor and probably the Grand Council as well in Blacklight."

"Yes, I figured as much."

"Is something wrong?" asked Sorvayn with a look of concern.

"She spoke to me while I was asleep. Azura. I _must_ go to the temple before we leave for Blacklight, Sorvayn. At any rate, it has been too long since I honoured the Reclamations."

The two inquisitors climbed the polished temple steps, the setting sun casting Mournhold in a deep, orange glow. Kelran, now clad back in his red, ebony-plated robes, took care to observe the new temple. The steps to the grand structure raised the entrance around thirty feet, allowing the dark elf to see the extent of the city. The Tribunal Temple stood upon an circular, elevated platform, putting it above the rest of the city. The temple itself was massive and unlike the temples of the Divines, for it was an elegant structure with a dome-like centre. Extending outward from the centre were three spires, two branching out to the sides of the entrance and another at the back. Curved slopes of pale stone built up the exterior, removing nearly all hard edges to the building. Similar to most Dunmeri structures, the Tribunal Temple lacked windows, keeping the temple as less of a building, but more of a graceful work of art.

Kelran gazed upon the temple and its surroundings in awe. Being a bitter man, Kelran rarely appreciated works of magnificence, however today was an exception. Kelran and Sorvayn approached the entrance to the Tribunal Temple, passing the beautiful and well-tended gardens that surrounded it. As the pair approached the temple, several men clad in long and hooded blue-grey robes bowed their heads in respect. Kelran and Sorvayn returned the gesture while they walked towards a great set of double doors that rose almost to the height of the temple itself. Four men armoured in gold-coloured plate and blue garb stood vanguard by the temple doors, their faces hidden by golden masks. These were the Ordinators, the force of Dunmeri soldiers under the command of the Tribunal Temple. The Ordinators were organised into four distinct orders; the Order of the Watch who protected the temple districts in each city, the Order of War who make battle with hostile Daedra, the Order of Inquisition who execute heretics and finally the Order of Doctrine and Ordination who were militant scholars that studied the writings of the temple.

Kelran passed the Ordinators and followed inside after he heaved open one of the large double doors. They entered a large reception area with doors leading west to the Office of the Lord Archanon, east to the temple infirmary and a northen door to the high chapel, each doorway being flanked by an Ordinator. There was a large bustle of worshippers and priests travelling to and from the temple and its different sections regularly and thus the temple was never quiet. All manner of people came here to honour the Tribunal; the Daedric Princes Azura, Boethiah and Mephala, from simple ash yam farmers and fishermen to soldiers, merchants and nobles. It was open for everybody who followed the Reclamations.

Sorvayn beckoned Kelran to follow, gesturing with a quick hand movement. The Dunmer bypassed the bustle in silence, heading towards the high chapel. Much had changed in the high chapel since the fall of the False Tribunal at the hands of the Nerevarine, as this had previously been the domain of Almalexia, one of the false three. As Kelran entered, his eyes fell upon three large and highly decorated statues depicting the Tribunal that were standing in the three corners of the room with a plaque set into the stone floor between them all, surrounded by curved pews. Many Dunmer were praying quietly to a specific member of the Tribunal, either down on their knees or simple sitting in silent contemplation on one of the pews.

Kelran took the lead now, walking forward, his black boots echoing against the stone. Passing the centre of the room, he knelt down and read the plaque.

'_Here we honour the Nerevarine, for now by him we rightfully serve the Reclaimed Tribunal. By his act of dismantling the Sixth House and opening our eyes to the truth, we persist in true honour of our following. May the Nerevarine forever walk among us in the light of the Three.'_

"I assume there's still no word of him?" asked Kelran, curious.

Sorvayn shook his head, "I am afraid not. After leaving for Akavir, we have rarely had anything sent back across the sea."

Kelran nodded, stood and continued along towards a statue of a woman in a long robe. In one hand she held a crescent moon, and in the other a star. Kelran lowered himself onto both knees and bowed his head, with Sorvayn following suit. As Kelran prayed to Azura, he felt almost as if he was being cleansed of impurity, like it was a reward for his worship. The sensation was soothing, warm and rejuvenating. After the sensation passed, Kelran stood up, his red eyes faintly glowing beneath his dark mask.

He turned to Sorvayn, who too was now standing.

"To Blacklight then, my friend. Then to the precipice of war."


	8. Chapter 8

The journey to Blacklight was met with little interruption despite intermittent ash storms. Since seceding from the Empire, the Dunmer people appeared to be in higher spirits. As Kelran and Sorvayn had traveled the great distance between Mournhold and Blacklight, they had witnessed greater morale in the citizens, queues at recruitment centres leading so far as to out of the building and farmers working tirelessly in fields that once again bore the colour green. Morrowind was a changing nation, and the Great Houses changed along with it.

Kelran stood at the foot of the Rootspire, the new seat of government for the Dunmer Grand Council. The building was not quite as grand as the White-Gold Tower in the Imperial City, but other than the various temples to the Reclamations, it was the most luxurious and ornate structure in the province. The Rootspire was a large conical building with a flattened top founded at the summit of a tall rock formation in the centre of the city, which was also the centre of the port. Blacklight held a horseshoe shape with the various districts running along the outside with the port at the base. The fact that the Rootspire was surrounded by water only added to its grandeur. Highly decorated elven guards patrolled the streets of Blacklight as more of an effort to show off to diplomats and tourists rather than for any practical purpose. Kelran noted how busy the city was right now, also eyeing up the various Dunmer coming and going from the Rootspire with their entourages.

"I take it the Grand Council expects us?" Kelran asked as Sorvayn returned from the barracks of the Redoran city guard. Sorvayn nodded and looked up the steps to the Rootspire.

"Indeed. The High Inquisitor is here too, though that comes as little surprise. Your uncle is always one to keep a close eye on operations." he said dryly.

Kelran understood his meaning. The High Inquisitor, Erdelas Arathi, was a veteran of both war and subterfuge. Having served with House Redoran against the Argonian invasion and rooted out both Thalmor and Shadowscale operatives from various Dunmer cities, he had a keen eye for detail and change. Respected though he was, Erdelas was not the most heartfelt of mer, leaving much to be desired on the family front.

Kelran sighed and nodded before they started up the steps together, removing their masks and lowering their hoods. As they ascended, Kelran caught a glimpse of a long scar running from behind Sorvayn's ear to the back of neck. He would have to ask him about that at a more appropriate time, for now they needed to remain focused on what lay ahead. At top of the stairs, they both stopped and Kelran heard Sorvayn curse under his breath.

Directly ahead of them by the great doors to the Rootspire were three other inquisitors, two of them masked and standing quietly while the third talked at length with an Imperial diplomat.

"That isn't Ranerath is it?" asked Sorvayn with a groan.

"Unfortunately." replied Kelran, approaching the inquisitors who then turned to greet them.

"Ah! Kelran and Sorvayn, it's about time you arrived. We've been standing out here for hours waiting for you. Really, it's been too long!" said Ranerath, the Dunmer who now completely ignored the Imperial he was previously talking to.

"If only it could have been longer…" said Sorvayn quietly, but still loud enough for Kelran to hear.

"Kelran, your uncle- I mean, the High Inquisitor, is inside. He's currently seated with the Grand Council; all of them are present besides House Hlaalu." continued Ranerath, addressing Kelran only.

"Hlaalu's absence is a pleasant surprise. Thank you, you're dismissed." said Kelran. The three inquisitors bowed, turned on their heels and left down the steps of the Rootspire. Sorvayn often forgot that Kelran was actually quite high up the chain of command for the Inquisitors of Resdayn, though it was an easy thing to do so when there was very little distinguishing each of them by rank.

Kelran and Sorvayn continued on to the Rootspire which they now walked in awe of, gazing up at its large decorated archways set into the side of the structure, accented with Daedric runes. To the untrained eye, this would just seem like another temple. As they approached, two Redoran guards rushed to open the great double doors before they reached them, allowing them unimpeded entry.

The hall of the Grand Council was not too dissimilar to that of the Elder Council. A wide ring of tabled seats surrounded a central dais upon which speakers would stand. The Grand Council was a meeting between representatives of the Great Houses of Morrowind: Houses Redoran, Telvanni, Indoril, Dres and Sadras. House Hlaalu's position as a Great House had been overtaken by House Sadras during the Oblivion Crisis, but in the past few years they had been given permission to attend the meetings of the Grand Council even if their voice would be met with disdain and disgust. Each of the seats were filled by the representatives of the Great Houses, each Dunmer clad in their respective garments and with a personal bodyguard standing shortly behind them.

Sat at the edge of the Grand Council was High Inquisitor Erdelas Arathi, an elderly elf whose white hair and beard only added to his stern demeanor. The High Inquisitor, as expected, was clad in the ebony plated robes of the Inquisitors of Resdayn, only his were even more ornate and decorated than normal. Black and gold cloth lay beneath ebony plates which bore dancing golden runes of light. When Kelran and Sorvayn entered, the old mer's eyes narrowed on his nephew as the Grand Council grew to silence.

One Dunmer rose to his feet as the two inquisitors approached the central dais, his arms wide.

"Welcome to the Rootspire, inquisitors. The Grand Council has been assembled at the Order's wishes." he said with a proud and welcoming voice.

Kelran recognised him as Serus Lenith, the main representative of House Redoran. Sorvayn cleared his throat in preparation to speak.

"Councillors, we have come to speak to you on a matter of dire urgency. We have discovered the existence of the fabled Aedric artifact known as the Soul of Trinimac."

"Then where is it, inquisitor?" asked the representative of House Dres, frowning deeply.

"That is why this is an urgent matter." spoke Kelran, taking the centre of their attention. "I found the Soul in Skyrim, but it appears that the Thalmor were as crafty as ever. They allowed me to take the Soul of Trinimac and then ambushed me and left me for dead, taking the artifact after I had done all the work for them."

A line of murmuring and doubt passed along the Grand Council until Erdelas stood.

"I have read the report that Inquisitor Marethi sent along before their arrival. The Thalmor have also been involved in locating and disrupting our other groups across Tamriel. Two of our inquisitors in the Imperial City managed to secure an agreement with the Elder Council however, so we know the Empire won't delay us in our search for the Soul of Trinimac and any other Aedric artifacts."

"The Thalmor and the Aldmeri Dominion are an ever present issue and thorn in our side." said Sorvayn. "Their attention may be on the Empire primarily right now, but everybody knows the story of how we came to be the Dunmer. The Altmer of Summerset are even longer lived than we are, and they are not quick to forget. Something must be done before they make their move on us."

"We are not prepared to start a war with the Aldmeri Dominion, Inquisitor Marethi. We don't have the men or resources yet-"

"Isn't that more to the point?" said the representative of House Indoril, cutting off Lenith's words. "We are not prepared for a war. It will take a while before Morrowind fully adjusts to the secession of the Great Houses, and the land is finally starting to return to what it used to be before the Red Year. Does the Dominion care about the state of our economy and military? Of course they do, and right now, we are ripe for the taking." the Dunmer got to his feet and looked between each of the councillors and the inquisitors in session. "Indoril Nerevar was the greatest hero of Morrowind. Not only did he save Morrowind once, but again with his reincarnation, the Nerevarine. Before the Nerevarine left for Akavir, he wanted me to promise him that the Grand Council would remain logical in its governance and stay true to the teachings of the Reclamations. The Thalmor and its Aldmeri Dominion are the greatest threat to the Dunmer we have seen since the Oblivion Crisis. They despise our very way of life, our existence." he stared at Serus Lenith, "I implore House Redoran. Lead us again. Aid the Empire, give them whatever we can. A new great war is on the horizon and we would not be doing our people justice if we left ourselves out of the fight against the Altmer. If not for our survival, then for the Three."

Kelran and Sorvayn looked at each other after the representative of House Indoril sat back down. The rest of the Grand Council appeared more determined and proud than before, surer in their ability as Dunmer. Serus Lenith slowly straightened and addressed the inquisitors in the centre.

"The Great Houses of Morrowind recognise the threat of the Aldmeri Dominion thanks to Heral Indoril's strong words. We will aid the Empire if ever the next war comes and we will also provide full support to the Inquisitors of Resdayn. We can all agree that the possibility of the Thalmor making use of these Aedric artifacts does not sit well with anybody, and so in return we ask of you, Kelran Arathi. Take back the Soul of Trinimac from our enemies. Ensure that it is never once used and save Tamriel from destruction."

Kelran's heart thudded at the order given to him. He knew that it was unlikely that the Great Houses would publicly go against the Aldmeri Dominion and therefore he would have to act against it himself with his comrades, but to have the expectations of the Grand Council bearing down on him? Stopping the march of the Aldmeri was no small task, but there was nobody left in the world who could do it. The Dragonborn had disappeared, the Champion of Cyrodiil had passed away and the Nerevarine had not been heard from in over two hundred years. Kelran took a deep breath and bowed before the Grand Council.

"I am duty-bound to serve the Great Houses, councillors. I will do everything in my power to protect Morrowind."

"You need not bow before us, Kelran. Your willingness to stand against an empire demands both the admiration and respect of us and everybody you meet. We honour you." said Lenith, bowing towards him.

Kelran's eyes passed over each of the councillors and they bowed to him in turn. Even Erdelas Arathi, the High Inquisitor, bowed before him.

Soon after, Kelran and Sorvayn left the Rootspire, immediately making towards the closest inn. Together they sat at a table, surrounded by positive gray faces and drinking sujamma, a sweet Dunmer beverage made from sujamma berries. Tonight felt like a last reprieve before pushing back headlong into an immense undertaking. The inquisitors were glad for their drinks for it calmed the incredible nerves they would likely be experiencing otherwise.

"So...two inquisitors against the Dominion. Not an intimidating thought at all." said Kelran quietly and sarcastically, sipping his drink and leaning forward against the table.

"Actually…" Sorvayn began awkwardly, "I won't be joining you for this. At least not yet."

Kelran's heart sank even lower. He knew the mission was of paramount importance, but to go about this alone? That was simply not possible.

"May I know why, Sorvayn?" he asked calmly.

The dark elf sighed and looked at his friend with regretful eyes.

"The argonians are beginning to stir trouble on the southern border again. It's likely nothing major, but House Redoran wants an inquisitor to make sure of that, so they assigned me to the duty."

"I see." said Kelran, looking at his mug.

"I'm sorry, my friend, but I cannot go against-"

"I know. Do not think on it. I will manage on my own for the time being just fine."

Kelran's words seemed to sting Sorvayn, but the dark elf worked well to try and hide it. He knew that it wasn't Kelran's intention to do so, and so in these cases it was always ignored in the end. They sat in silence while the bustle of the inn gradually subsided as the night grew towards dawn. Finally, Sorvayn spoke again.

"Where will you go first? We don't know where those Thalmor agents will be by now."

Kelran had spent the entire night thinking about such things and yet he still wasn't definitive with his answer.

"The Thalmor will likely be making their way to the Summerset Isle and will at least be in Valenwood by now. I won't be able to simply chase them down...it's too late for that." he replied, slowly scratching his chin with his thumb while in thought. "Either way I'll need to find a way through Elsweyr and Valenwood before reaching the Summerset Isle. I would be in enemy territory the entire time."

"You'll need to drop the inquisitor's robes then. A Dunmer they might only look at oddly but one in those robes will be attacked on sight." stated Sorvayn to which Kelran nodded. As usual, his friend was right in his thinking. The rest of the night was quiet for the two Dunmer, idle conversation passing between them like a faint wind. This was indeed a final reprieve; a moment of normalcy in a soon to be torrent of chaos.


	9. Chapter 9

At dawn, Kelran passed across the border of Morrowind and returned to Skyrim, himself and his horse slowly striding down the path that he had trodden not too long ago. A faint smile slid onto Kelran's face beneath his ebony mask. He noted that the bodies had since been moved off of the road. The inquisitor continued south along the road, moving near Windhelm, from which smoke still billowed slowly from the Grey Quarter. Nary a soul passed him on the roads, which was unsurprising as it was now the time of Frostfall - the dawning of winter. The orange leaves that usually signalled the region known as the Rift were not to be seen, but bleak husks of bark instead.

Kelran had picked his timing perfectly. He had travelled a good distance already over the course of the morning and now he felt that he was close to his destination. Now only several miles from the small village known as Shor's Stone, Kelran turned his horse left off of the road and into the wilderness. The black beast carried him further and further until it halted abruptly, whinnying and expulsing sharp breaths in sudden panic. The inquisitor deftly slid off of the horse while it struggled to keep still then he cast a simple spell of command, forcing the horse to return to the border post to Morrowind. Kelran always kept a certain respect for horses, and like hounds, they seemed always to be able to sense when something wasn't quite right. Naturally, he could feel it too. It was quiet and hidden, but it was there.

Slowly, the Dunmer walked further in, the air seemingly becoming colder than it already was. He froze in place as a deer darted across his path, carrying with it a putrid stench. Kelran pushed further into the wild with a black ebony hand on the hilt of his longsword. After around another minute of skulking through the trees, he saw it. A small stone door built into the side of the mountains that bordered Skyrim with Morrowind. He took another step and stopped, locked in his position. In a swift movement, Kelran drew the sword from across his back, spun to the left, parried a strike with the blade, following up with a strong kick to the back of his aggressor's left knee and then he brought the sword down, stopping short of decapitating the fiend. Staring back up at him with eye sockets filled with a dark red energy was an animated corpse. The man appeared to be have been dead for a while, yet not long enough to become skeletal. Ripped clothes and battered plates of armour clung to him while a heavy steel sword lay limp in his grip. The undead made no move to attack him further. A wise decision for anything with a blade to its neck.

"Tell your master that I am here, slave. I expected a warmer greeting." said Kelran to the corpse.

The corpse seemed to grin wickedly and expelled what he could only assume was some vain attempt at a laugh that only resulted in a horrid gurgling of old blood and bile. As the creature laughed the energy dissipated from its eyes, and it sank down to the ground lifeless once again. The stone door opened of its own accord and Kelran's crimson eyes fell upon a simple downwards set of stairs illuminated in blood red light. Sheathing his blade, he entered and traversed the steps, leaving the corpse behind.

At the bottom of the steps, Kelran emerged into a long and wide corridor of stone. Almost alien depictions of different events in history lined the walls before reaching the large circular door at the corridor's end. Curious, the inquisitor took his time walking the corridor, making sure to at least briefly study the ancient petroglyphs. Moving from one to the other, he saw scenes of ritual sacrifice, mass slaughter, slavery and many men kneeling before a figure sat upon a throne. At least that is what they appeared to be. Without knowledge of the incredibly detailed symbology used, it was very difficult to ascertain true meaning and understanding.

Satisfied, Kelran moved to the large circular door at the end of the corridor which now reminded him of the ancient dragon priest temples that dotted Skyrim. As he approached its stone face, an altar rose out of the floor before it. It was shaped like a bowl with the likeness of a deity upon it. Kelran chuckled to himself, immediately comprehending its significance and then shook his head. Producing a small knife, he stood above the altar and opened his robe to partially reveal his torso before tracing the blade across a faint scar that matched the shape of the Daedric symbol for 'M'. He then leaned over the altar and allowed the blood to drip into the bowl where it sunk into the metal itself. The door slowly slid open in response, throwing up dust and a musty scent. Kelran sealed the cut closed with a fast and precise beam of flame and a stifled scream of pain. Composing himself, the inquisitor strode through.

Inside the inner sanctum, Kelran laid eyes on a throne atop a raised platform to which steps led up. The air was cold and there was little light, but he could see the silhouettes of banners lining the walls that were waving slightly in the gentle breeze from the corridor behind him. A dead hearth lay at the foot of the steps and a sigil of blood lay emblazoned into the stone floor; rigid lines veering off towards the walls of the circular chamber. Kelran took a step into the throne room and a voice stopped the elf in his tracks.

"So, the Dra'gaharihn returns at last at the dawn of the frost…" it said. The voice was ablaze with ancient power, but also did not sound ancient at all. At the end of its words, braziers immediately ignited themselves along the walls with pale blue flames. Black candles appeared dotted around the throne, illuminating the speaker. It was a man, but only to the eye. He was clad in slim black armour accented in faint gold; crimson fabric hung from underneath the pauldrons and belt. A gauntleted hand rested upon the pommel of a longsword that was slightly thinner than the broader designs typically found in Tamriel. His face was like alabaster, gaunt and stern, his neck-length hair blacker than midnight. Black veins surrounded the piercing cold blue eyes that stared towards Kelran.

"Malath." said Kelran, bowing with a fist to his chest.

"Why are you here, boy? Your last words vowed that you would never return." demanded Malath, his voice filling the hall with malice.

"I need your help to save this world." he stated, to which Malath laughed.

"You dare make a demand unto me? Say what you will, perhaps I will listen."

After telling him all that he knew, Kelran still stood before Malath, who was sat upon the throne with his head leaning against a fist. The silence between them seemed unending. Malath had made no movement whilst Kelran had told his tale, his arrogance set aside to hear the plea of his friend. Finally he got to his feet, took hold of his sword and approached the Dunmer.

"I have lived a tremendously long time on Tamriel, as you know." he said, now standing directly in front of him. "War is a natural phase of society for both men and mer, and while I hold no love for this world, neither would I see it destroyed. This is a matter of survival, not fighting for any one side." Malath bowed his head and then dropped to one knee, his hands raised with his sword resting atop them. "I give unto you my blade. I shall help you overcome this crisis until it has found its end."

Kelran stared at Malath and reached out, his hand trembling slightly. His black plated fingers curled around the grip and he lifted it slightly, feeling the sudden volume of power shifting between the sword and himself. Black, shadowy vapours emanated from the steel, tying themselves to both Kelran and Malath before disappearing again. Gradually the passing of magic faded and Kelran flipped the sword and handed the grip to Malath.

"The pact is done, old friend. I don't need the sword, I need the man behind it." he said with a faint smile.

Malath returned it, grabbed the sword and got to his feet, "I am no mere man, Kelran."

"I meant no offence. It was a simple turn of phrase."

Halfway across the world on the north-western coast of Summerset stood the Altmeri city of Lillandril, a port city that was home to the gladiator team known as the Crimson Guards. Spires of silver rose high above the residential buildings at the city's uppermost tiers, giving the Lillandril skyline a needle-like visage. Upon the tallest of these spires, an Altmer gazed out towards the sea and the Dominion fleet that traversed its glistening waters in the evening sun.

"The Dunmer have begun to mobilise their troops. Should we be worried?" asked the Altmer, a woman clad in robes and armour of black and gold. The colours and garb of a Thalmor Paladin.

"I think not, Lady Nerelica. With the Dunmer having not long separated from the Empire, it's likely they are just bolstering their borders now that the Imperials won't do it for them." said the image of another Altmer, a male clad in heavy plate and his face fully covered. Nerelica turned towards the image that hovered just above a small receptacle of illuminated crystal.

"I do hope you are right in this, Tharatol. If the Dunmer mobilise a standing army, they may be more prepared than the Legion for when war breaks out." she sighed and looked back out to sea, "What of the Inquisitors?"

"They are widespread across Tamriel at the moment and Malicin's agents are hunting them down as soon as they can, although rumour has it that he's not quite up to the task…" said General Tharatol, his image pacing back and forth as he spoke.

"Malicin retrieved the Soul, that in itself is a commendable feat."

"Indeed, though I would place greater faith in a well armed and organised army over some ancient stone, my lady. Furthermore, Malicin's agents are losing their foothold within Cyrodiil and especially Skyrim. The Stormcloak rebellion, although quelled by the Legion and our justiciars, clearly sowed the seed of dissent against the Dominion." he said with clear skepticism in his voice.

"Attempting to puppet an entire Empire of various cultures created their growing hatred of us, not some pathetic rebellion in the northern province. The White-Gold Concordat simply gave the enemy the means to regenerate itself, and this time we won't have the element of surprise. _That_ is why we sought the Soul of Trinimac. If we can harness its power, however that may be expressed, the Empire would fall away like the leaves on a tree."

Tharatol laughed and Nerelica turned in confusion. "By Auri-el, this is absurd. Tinkering with the relics of the Aedra has never led to anything good. One result of such dabbling stands against us in the form of the Great Houses of Morrowind! You are naive if you truly believe that this war will be won with old trinkets." he shook his head, "Alas, I have no more time for such talk. I have troops to organise and fronts to plan. A good day to you, Lady Nerelica." he said, and with that the image faded and the crystal dimmed.

Nerelica slammed a fist against the railing that she leaned against and continued to look outward towards the sea in ponderous thought. Frostfall had arrived upon the continent of Tamriel yet as ever it avoided the Summerset Isles. This was not the time to begin a war, but preparations were already under way. The political climate of the Thalmor called for a final end to the Empire, and the loyal servants of the Dominion were all but too happy to oblige. A new war loomed upon the horizon, a conflict to dwarf any other. Whatever the outcome, she knew that Tamriel would be forever changed.

"One empire rises, another falls."


	10. Chapter 10

Several miles south of Mournhold, Vaneth Arathi arrived in a small military encampment near to the border of Black Marsh, the dense jungle swamplands of the Argonian State. Vaneth dismounted from his horse at the entrance, his black and gold robes lightly coated in a mix of ash and dirt. The camp was of a medium size, large enough to hold enough troops for a decent skirmish but was nothing of the like seen in war. Soldiers wearing the staple bonemold armour of House Redoran quickly marched to and fro, delivering supplies and messages between destinations.

"Greetings, what's the situation here?" he called as two Redoran guards approached him.

"One of your order arrived here yesterday." said the superior of the two as they led Vaneth further into the camp, "He's been patiently waiting for you and dared not to venture southward without strong reinforcements."

Vaneth threw the soldier a puzzled glance, "Did he say why?"

"No, sir. The inquisitor's been very quiet since he scouted the area and has been pouring over the map in the command tent since."

"Where is he now?" he asked.

"Just in here, sir." said the soldier, leading him to a large tent and pulling open the flap that covered the entrance.

Vaneth stepped inside after thanking the soldier. Before him was a blue robed inquisitor who stood hunched a table that was covered with a very detailed map of Morrowind's southern regions. Next to him was the commander of the Redoran detachment sent to the border.

"Sorvayn?"

The blue robed inquisitor looked up and smiled at him. "Vaneth. I'm glad you have finally arrived. I'm afraid we need to skip pleasantries this time, my friend. Dire matters need attending to. Come." he said, beckoning him over with a hand.

Vaneth joined Sorvayn and the Redoran commander at the table and placed his ebony greatsword against the side of it, the golden runes dimming as the blade left his touch.

"You've come at a troubling time, inquisitor." said the Redoran commander. "I'm Captain Veleth and I lead this detachment from Raven Rock."

Vaneth looked at Veleth curiously. He was a bald Dunmer with a trimmed goatee and his face was haggard like that of a veteran. Though his primary posting was an interesting one.

"Why is the Raven Rock guard all the way south here?" he asked.

"Councillor Morvayn figured that while the ebony mines are an important resource, with the lack of manpower that we have at the moment it'd be better use of our skills to deploy us elsewhere. I can't really argue, I've guarded Solstheim for too damn long and it's a nice change to be back in the homeland. Even if it is against this." explained Veleth.

"What do you mean?"

Sorvayn pointed a finger at a point on the map highlighted in a red circle and then dragged his finger to other points like it.

"I scouted along the border yesterday afternoon and found the remains of several of our border patrols at these locations."

"But those are _within_ our borders…" said Vaneth.

"Aye, but we have a bigger issue." continued Sorvayn, stopping only to place a couple of bloodied arrows on the table. "This isn't a simple border skirmish."

Vaneth's heart was suddenly in his throat. It did not take an expert to work out the implications here. He picked up one of the arrows and ran a finger from the head to the elegant fletching. This was elven craft, not argonian.

"Have the Great Houses been warned?"

"I sent a rider myself to Blacklight." said Captain Veleth. "Although I did point out in the message that it's possible that the Argonians are only receiving equipment from the Dominion."

"Hopefully that is only the case, however doubtful it is." said Sorvayn running a hand across his face, "I remember the days when the marauders of Argonia were unleashed on our lands...being caught off-guard, defending the plains of Deshaan to the last." he shook his head and gazed deeply at the map, leaning on the table. "I would much rather those days return than a second Great War."

"Aye. It's a shame we don't get to choose our battles, serjo. That's the attacker's liberty I'm afraid." said Veleth.

"Then _we_ need to make a move. If Argonian forces have crossed the border and are using the Southern Marshes as cover, then we need to root them out and capture them if possible before they make another move on us." exclaimed Vaneth.

Sorvayn looked nervously at Veleth, and then back to the inquisitor. "You understand this would risk war with the Argonians?"

"Their next set of attacks _will_ be war, Sorvayn."

Veleth sighed, "The lad's got a point. If war is inevitable then I'd rather risk it on preferable terms than wait it out."

Sorvayn looked between them and the map, perplexed. His mind fell back to thoughts of Kelran and his chase for the Soul of Trinimac. A war would at first be detrimental to Kelran's efforts, but would actually be beneficial in the long term. There are plenty of refugees and travelling vagrants in wartime, and a lot less soldiers at home.

"Fine. Break up your men, Veleth. Units of twelve with at least one sorcerer and three who are decent with a bow. Keep one unit back here to keep sentry on the camp and place the rest near the locations of our dead border patrols. We'll scour the border along this region and eliminate any threats. Understood Captain?" ordered Sorvayn, giving Veleth a look of stone.

"Understood. I suggest you and Vaneth stick together as your own unit. I've seen one or two of you inquisitors in action before and even the Redoran guard can't stand up to you." he said as he left the command tent.

Nearly an hour after, Sorvayn and Vaneth moved along the border between Morrowind and Black Marsh at a slow pace. The Southern Marshes were an alien combination of flora and fauna from either side of the border, making only this region truly unique. Dense jungle trees mixed with large mushrooms that glowed with bioluminescence in the dark shroud provided by the marsh's canopy. Water met halfway up their shins and a constant bustle of noise from insects, birds and small amphibian creatures surrounded them. The smell was perhaps the worst part. Stagnant bogwater layered with algae was a common sight it seemed.

"I imagine this stench won't leave my robes for some time…" said Sorvayn, holding up a staff in his left hand and carrying a thin and light sword in his right.

"As long as the armour doesn't rust I can live with it." replied Vaneth, his greatsword across his shoulder leaving his left hand free to provide balance.

"Ebony never rusts."

"Good to know-"

Sorvayn held up his sword with his hand as a fist, signalling a halt. Vaneth closed the gap between the two of them, moving cautiously to not make a lot of noise.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, but then he got his answer as he peered over Sorvayn's shoulder. Several bloodied bodies of the Redoran Guard lay strewn across an opening ahead. Sorvayn began moving forward again with Vaneth in tow, weapons now at the ready.

"There's too few for it to be one of the units that Veleth sent out." observed Sorvayn.

"Then, it's one of the border patrols...but I thought they were all recalled?"

"So did I."

Together the two inquisitors looked over the corpses. Some had been dismembered, though it appeared to be an incident of any combat that had occurred.

"Does this look natural to you?" asked Vaneth, pointing to some of the bodies. Sorvayn moved next to him to achieve the same point of view. "Something is missing…"

"There's only blood on the bodies-" sudden realisation hit Sorvayn and he pulled Vaneth down to the ground as several barbed arrows pierced the air where they had just been stood.

Sorvayn got back up to his feet and held out his staff, generating a blue dome of energy around him and Vaneth, but no more arrows came their way and neither could they see nor hear any hint of the enemy.

"By Azura, they've taken to posing the dead?" cried Vaneth in a small modicum of disbelief.

"It's clever, I'll give them that. Guerilla tactics. They'll be hunting us now."

"We need to lure them out into the open, move them somewhere that they can't hide."

The inquisitors backtracked from their position, retracing their path back towards the edge of the marshes. Sorvayn kept the shield raised for as long as possible, handing the staff to Vaneth to take over while he rested before taking it back again. They were forced to move slowly lest the shield would falter, making progress painful to behold and placing them at even greater risk. Shadowy figures kept catching Vaneth's eye, moving between the trees and amidst the undergrowth. Or perhaps that was his hyper alert mind? Either way, it paid to be prepared.

Soon, Sorvayn and Vaneth managed to break from the swampland and into open plains of dust and light grass. They made some headway further north to be clear out of arrow-shot before turning to face the dense jungle. Vaneth let the blade of his sword drop into the dirt, angled the edge and then quickly drew a circle accented with runes around himself. The sigil pulsed with a purple light, faded and immediately after, tendrils of violet energy pulled onto him before morphing into ethereal armour plates. Across the gap, figures emerged from the trees. Humanoid lizards clad in a mix of armour styles built from tribal materials. Their equipment was as mismatched as their appearances. However, this was not just a small band of Argonians, for more and more marched forward, and not just ahead but along the entire tree line to their flanks too.

"I've fought worse before." spat Sorvayn as the Argonian force moved towards them, hissing and screeching.

A gradually increasing thundering of impacts on the ground caught Vaneth's attention and he turned just as a cavalry charge of Redoran soldiers pushed past them, their horses also armoured with bonemold.

"Idiots!" shouted Vaneth. They had charged straight into a superior sized force and towards the marsh edge which for cavalry was practically a wall.

The inquisitors charged after the cavalry to give them what support they could, although both felt it would be futile. Within seconds they had joined the fray, cutting down Argonians as quickly as the cavalry unit was losing men. Sorvayn deftly deflected blow after blow with his blade while launching gouts of flame with his staff simultaneously in a tornado of carnage. Soon there became a clear circle of scorch marks and charred corpses around him as he fought. Meanwhile, Vaneth wielded his black greatsword with ease, swiftly cleaving foe after foe. Around them, the Redoran cavalry had been reduced to around half strength and only now decided to pull back as a force of Redoran infantry charged into the gap they had left, headed by Captain Veleth. The fighting continued for several minutes before the Argonians began to rout, fleeing back into the marshes one by one. Vaneth cut down his latest victim and turned to strike at another only to find that there was none. Blood stained his mask, robes and armour while his blade boiled any blood upon it into vapour upon contact, leaving it perfectly clean. He planted his sword into the ground and leaned on it, gathering his breath while Sorvayn and Veleth approached him in the aftermath of the skirmish.

"Well...that could have gone better." said Veleth nodding towards the heap of horses on the ground near to them.

"I hope to Oblivion and back that it wasn't you who gave the order for them to charge." stated Sorvayn, his face stern and cold.

"No, that was the second in command I had left at the camp. I'll deal with him accordingly when we get back." he sighed, then looked between the two of them. "How are you both after that anyway?"

Sorvayn gave an odd look to Vaneth who was wrapping a rag around his arm, which was now soaked in blood. He caught the look but held up a hand in reassurance.

"We'll live it seems." he said, sheathing his sword back into its scabbard. "It's likely they'll be back with more soon, Captain. We need to be ready."

"There are greater things for you to worry about, Sorvayn." came a voice from behind them.

A white robed inquisitor on horseback and an entourage of Ordinators beside her approached. "Port Telvannis, Nekrom and Raven Rock were attacked an hour ago. There are also reports of incursions across the borders with Valenwood and Elsweyr with the Empire. Further naval attacks have been reported in Hammerfell, High Rock and on the west coast of Cyrodiil."

"Sirina, has it begun?" asked Vaneth.

"It has. Without a declaration, the Aldmeri Dominion has attacked both the Empire and the Great Houses of Morrowind. The Great War has begun again. May Azura have mercy on us all…"


	11. Chapter 11

Kelran stirred from his sleep, awakening by the campfire he had built on the north side of the Nibenay Basin that lay on the east side of Cyrodiil, the cosmopolitan heartland of the Empire. He sat up and stretched his arms as they ached at where the stone met the skin.

"Events are underway, Dra'gaharihn. I can feel it in Nirn itself. You should too if you actually bothered to remember what I taught you centuries ago." said Malath.

The ancient being held a skull in one hand that he appeared to be gazing at pensively. The skull itself carried an incredible number of notches and grooves that had been carved into it by hand, creating all manner of symbols and runes, some of which Kelran recognised though most were unknown. Malath was right though. Nirn was suddenly under strain. The ley lines that arced through the world's crust and emanated the forces of magic were usually like loose string, but now they were pulled tight, and sensing the change made the pair of them very uncomfortable.

"I feel like the tables have turned on us, yet...I'm not entirely certain of what I'm sensing." said Kelran quietly.

Malath rested the skull on the ground and got to his feet, moving closer to where Kelran sat in his bed rag. Kneeling down, he scorched the surface of a small patch of grass with sorcerous flame and then bade Kelran look. Malath raised a hand and the dirt bound together to make a miniature force of black figures.

"You are feeling the footfalls of a million soldiers suddenly on the move, of fleets raining fire upon the shore." he said, and the black miniatures morphed into the image of the subject at hand. "Villages burned, unbelievers purged. Thus begins a war hinged upon the perceived racial supremacy of mer over man. A conflict that will transform the face of Nirn into a whirlwind of chaos." he sighed. "It is times like these that beings such as the Daedric Princes of Oblivion relish. No doubt that the scheming of one or two princes is already in play. It has become a natural occurrence."

He waved a hand away and the figurines fell back to dirt again.

"And you don't relish these times?" questioned Kelran with a slight smirk.

"I enjoy the opportunity to slaughter mortals any day, but only when I get to return to peace and quiet. Alas, the war has begun, though not just on the Empire but on Resdayn too."

"Morrowind." corrected Kelran. Malath's cold blue eyes snapped towards him, alert, but then they calmed and seemed almost tired.

"Old habits die hard, so they say- are you even paying attention?"

Kelran held up a hand, silencing his voice.

"Hear that?" he asked. Malath looked down, bringing everything to his other senses.

"Hear it? I can smell it, Kelran." he said. Malath turned his gaze towards the wilderness that surrounded them and the air immediately grew cold. "Come forward," he cried, his voice bringing with it a powerful and physical impact, "come forward or be subject to the fires of Coldharbour!"

A figure stepped out from behind a tree, her garment black and red leather, the mark of a bloody handprint adorning her shoulder. The female Bosmer stepped forward, keeping her steel plated recurve bow trained on Malath, two arrows nocked to the string.

"I wondered how long it would take before I was eventually discovered. Watching the pair of you talk is surprising entertainment." she said.

"Which of us is the contract kill?" asked Kelran drawing his sword, "Because I swear to Azura, you will not have either of us today."

"Why the _Nagra Ada_. Although," she said, lowering her bow, "there is no time restraint on my contract. I don't need to kill you just yet."

"_Nagra Ada_?" asked Kelran, looking at Malath. "What's that?"

"It's old Aldmeris for-" started the Bosmer.

"Dead god." said Malath, turning away. "But then I suppose that's the point isn't it?" he whispered, but still loud enough for the assassin to hear.

"What are you getting at?" she asked. Malath, still with his back towards her, looked towards his shoulder.

"You cannot kill that which is already dead, girl."

Malath vanished in a shroud of darkness, reappearing directly in front of the Bosmer, except his form had changed. All likeness of Malath himself had been torn away and what he had become was a being born of nightmares. Standing at about the height of a werewolf was a gaunt and skeletally thin creature of pale flesh and muscle. A pair of tattered wings unfurled from being him while the tips of his fingers also extended into short, curved blades. Malath's elf-like ears had tapered backwards and elongated, his face even thinner than normal, as if pulled from behind. Thick, daedric horns protruded from his skull arcing out and upwards. Malath's eyes opened and the Bosmer witnessed what looked like twin portals into the realm of Coldharbour itself. The assassin let loose the two arrows just as Malath lunged forward to stab at her chest, but neither found their target. Malath's right arm quivered against the resistance put up by Kelran's ebony longsword. He glanced at the split arrows on the ground and then at the Dunmer.

"You dare, Dra'gaharihn?" roared Malath, his words bringing darkness upon the surrounding area. Even the weather responded to the demonic presence.

"Let her live, Malath! We can-"

"No!" he bellowed, swiping away Kelran's blade and flinging its wielder back a dozen feet.

Kelran sat up and looked back to the creature. Malath raised a clawed hand above him, ready again to tear into the girl, when the inquisitor outstretched his hand towards her. A purple tendril of magic burst from his palm and at the moment it made contact with the assassin, they had switched. Kelran turned as a long, razor-sharp claw plunged straight into his chest, ignoring any layers of armour and magical protection. Kelran felt the breath being driven out of his body, not allowing him to scream in pain but to only gasp suddenly for air. He looked up at Malath's hideous form and watched as the realisation of his actions became apparent upon his inhuman visage. The energy in his muscles simply seemed to bleed away and he could no longer stand of his own volition. Slowly, and nearly silently, Kelran's figure slid away from the claw that was embedded deep within it, collapsing on the ground.

Kelran soon found himself awake, his clothes still bloodstained but the wound he had sustained from Malath's claw had been cleaned and bandaged. Kelran could see the evening sky, but the ground bucked now and then as if- ah, that was it. His senses soon returned and he realised that he was in the back of a cart, along with furs, rugs and a small assortment of pottery.

"He's awake now." said a voice, the woman from earlier. He was surprised that she was still breathing.

"Take the reins, Ashera." he heard Malath's voice say, and then soon enough Malath's face came into view.

Not his true and daedric form, but his humanoid one. True sorrow and guilt clearly racked his heart. For an ever youthful being, heavy lines lay deep in his face.

"It's good that you're awake...How do you feel?" he asked, seeming unsure of himself.

"As any would expect to feel after something like that." said Kelran, placing a hand over the five puncture marks that had torn into his left pectoral.

"Yes...um, I apologise deeply to you, Kelran Arathi. For stabbing you." he replied awkwardly. Kelran laughed but then grimaced in pain.

"Just don't make a habit of it and we'll be alright...How is it?"

"I have halted the bleeding for now with my power, but the damage is too extensive for a simple heal. You need a dedicated healer to tend to this, else when my power eventually fails, you will quickly drown in your own blood."

"How long-" he stopped to cough "- will this take?" Kelran asked. Malath looked back towards the road forwards and then to the wounded elf again.

"We're on track to Cheydinhal. As far as I understand, there should be a chapel there to one of your gods- or Divines rather, which should also mean a healer of some kind."

"They're not _my _gods at all Malath. Arkay and the rest of them are the Imperial pantheon. The Dunmer revere the Reclaimed Tribunal."

"It's all aedra and daedra, all the different gods, Divines or whatever you wish to name them end up being the same set of otherworldly beings anyway. Admittedly it's only the dark elves who actually worship something with clear evidence and power behind it. That, I respect."

"I would perhaps keep your view of deities to yourself when we reach Cheydinhal."

Malath rolled his eyes and returned to the front of the cart, leaving Kelran to his own thoughts and to rest. He lay there, his mind turning to the global crisis at hand. This was it. This was the moment that had been anticipated since the signing of the White-Gold Concordat. Kelran wondered how Morrowind was holding up, especially the other inquisitors who were spread right across Tamriel. Surely they would all be moving back to the homeland now to defend it?

_That's if they can even get there._

Sorvayn and Vaneth were already returning to Morrowind, so they should have been safe enough, but still. How many inquisitors would fail to return thanks to the Thalmor? He felt that the number would turn out to be a surprise once this was all over, should he survive.

After what seemed like an entire night of being in the back of the cart, they came to a halt. Kelran sat up and peered over the front of the cart as Malath and the Bosmer, Ashera, disembarked. From here, his crimson eyes could see the gates of Cheydinhal; large steel doors set inside a large gatehouse with an outer portcullis. The city had clearly been reinforced since the last Great War and its brief time under bandit rule. He could see clearly that this city was truly Imperial now and built more like a fort than a city, and this fort was responding to the war in earnest. Imperial Legionnaires marched forth from the city's gates clad in heavy plate, moving in blocks of four by eight. Some men carried banners, others rode next to the marching lines on horseback; hooves blending in with the sound of clinking metal and heavy steps. It had been a long time since Kelran had laid eyes on a mobilising Imperial Empire, and were it not for the current situation, he would have actually liked to stay and watch. Leaving the cart outside of the city, Malath and Ashera helped Kelran within its walls. Cheydinhal itself was a picturesque location with its wide city streets, high-wealth houses and lush greenery that was only broken up by the river that split the city in two coming in from the Nibenay Basin. Arching footbridges linked up the small islets in the river, making a safe pathway across to the opposite side. On the city's northern side, Castle Cheydinhal watched over its dominion, sitting atop a large hill and surrounded by towers and ramparts. On the east side of the city, across the river, was their destination. Above the residential areas rose the structure of the Great Chapel of Arkay, the Divine of Life and Death. At this time of night, or rather early morning, the city was silent save for the city's Legion garrison. No doubt it would be rife with refugees by dawn.

Practically dragging the Dunmer, Malath and Ashera carried Kelran across the city's cobbles, made their way across the northernmost footbridge across the river and then around the chapel's structure to the front doors. The Great Chapel of Arkay stood at around fifty or sixty feet high, its main spire and hall decorated with stained glass that depicted each of the Divines. Malath pushed the double doors open and marched through while Kelran leaned on Ashera at the entrance.

"A healer! Is there a healer in here?" he cried in the darkness, shortly running back and pointing at Kelran. "Here, he has internal bleeding and his lungs are punctured."

"It's a miracle he yet lives then!" said a female voice behind Malath.

Kelran looked up and saw an Altmer of around middle age (in terms of an elven lifespan). She wore modest clothing, her hair in a bun and a face of kindness.

"Ohtesse? You still live here after all this time?" he said in mild disbelief while grimacing with pain.

"Be quiet and save your strength. You two," she said, turning to Malath and Ashera, "help me bring him further in."

They nodded and the three of them carried Kelran's near dead figure to the main shrine to Arkay at the head of the chapel where they laid him down on the tile floor with plenty of room to his sides. Ohtesse knelt down beside Kelran and lifted his head, sliding a folded blanket beneath it. Afterwards, she held out her hands above him while golden light slowly pulsed within her grasp. Gradually, the light fell and touched Kelran like a faint breath. The light passed over him and stayed, emanating a faint glow from his entire being. Ohtesse sighed with relief and looked at Malath.

"He's stable for now and he will make a full recovery, but it will take time to heal him. I'll need a couple of days at least, but my magic will act on him over time as well. I won't need to be here constantly, so you will still have ample time to talk and so on. Just don't expect Kelran to move."

"I thank you, healer." bowed Malath. Ohtesse then left and returned to her chambers while the faint golden glow still rested on Kelran, who had succumbed to exhaustion and passed out. Ashera sat down next to Kelran cross-legged. Her rose blonde hair lay bound in tight braids down her back while she stared at the Dunmer's sleeping form.

"The two of you mean a great deal to each other don't you?" she said, still gazing at Kelran. "Might I ask why?"

"It's...a unique relationship. We have saved each other's lives and the pair of us are very different from anybody else. I am his mentor in certain magics and techniques. He is mine in keeping some sense of the world's state." Malath sighed, "Thank you for helping him."

Ashera smiled and turned to Malath. "You're still my mark, and I swear to you I will take it. But the contract can wait. There are personal scores that must be settled before business is attended to. I hope the two of you can help once Kelran can walk again."

"We hunt the Thalmor, girl. We aim to infiltrate the Summerset Isles and retrieve something that was stolen. We would not decline help, for that is a rare commodity in these dark times, but be warned that there may be no going back from our mission. We fight for the survival of Tamriel itself." said Malath, his tone and face like stone. Ashera nodded and then looked down.

"Then our aims align somewhat, daedra. Valenwood has befallen its own dark times since the Aldmeri Dominion knocked on our doors…" she wiped a tear from her face and looked at Malath, almost in anger. "Don't think for a second that just because my people are part of the Dominion that we were spared the wrath of the Thalmor. Their racial purges are infamous in Valenwood and my country lives in fear, but what can we do? They outnumbered us, they overpowered us. We too have paid the price."

A moment of silence passed between them while Ashera fought back her tears.

"Were you involved with the rebellions after the Thalmor removed the Imperial Administration?" he asked. She nodded. "I am so sorry."

"My mother was killed in the first invasion, she was part of the Imperial Legion that was stationed in Valenwood. My brother, fought alongside me in the rebellions and was captured, tortured and executed. My father believed that they had taken me too...and so he took his own life before I found him again."

"A tragedy much like many others that have happened due to the Thalmor and their Aldmeri Dominion. This is why we fight them, Ashera. This is why we're going to beat the Thalmor at their own games while our allies beat back their armies. The fate of Tamriel rests firmly with us, as daunting as that may sound. It will be our duty to avenge your family, to ensure that none of your people died in vain, and to relinquish the Dominion's hold on your homeland. This, I vow."


End file.
